Second Restoration
by Sparkling Moon Phoenix
Summary: Begins a week before the Chosen of Regeneration begins her journey. Kara, twin sister of Lloyd, has been the recipient of strange dreams. During the journey to restore the Great Tree, Kara changes into a being that could help Lloyd in his mission.
1. The Tree of Mana and the Lesser Conclave

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe, may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: 0.1 of ?**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. However, just as Cruxis sends the oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, a race of enigmatic beings, long thought to myth deign to walk the mirror worlds. However Yggdrassil, leader of Cruxis and Yuan, leader of the Renegades, also detect faint trace of ancient power stirring within the two mirror worlds.**_

_**They are searching, seeking. . . **_

_**For the one who hides within their soul. . **_

_**A power that could save them all.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 0.1: The Tree of Mana and the Lesser Conclave**_

_**~:O:~**_

Legend has told of the Tree of Mana was responsible for the creation of life upon Symphonia. The Tree did indeed exist, emanating infinite Mana throughout the world of Symphonia. Fruit hung amongst its lofty branches, shimmering with the vibrancy of life. Thousands of years passed and the one by one, the fruit fell, various forms of life emerging to fill Symphonia with their presence. The Eldest children of the Tree were the Summon Spirits; each one had governance over a solitary aspect of nature. The protozoans were the second, a constantly evolving form of life that thrived on Symphonia.

Elves and Humans were the next races to be born. The Elves and Humans thrived; building civilizations. But the Tree still held fruit within its branches. More races were birthed. The Ethereal Dragons; capable of telepathic communication with other intelligent forms of life. The noble Spirit Cats, great felines who could channel magic as fully as any Elf. They were just as intelligent as an Elf or Human. Because of their close connections to the Tree of Mana; these beings were known as the Mana Tribes. But their nature was misunderstood. They became reclusive in nature; hiding themselves away within the wild places.

With the passing of centuries; more Summon Spirits emerged, younger than those of the Elder Spirits by several thousand years. They claimed governance over aspects that were not controlled by the Elder Spirits.

The first was Elyr; who influenced the powers of magic. She came to be known as the Shining Maiden, Lady of all Magic. She was also the oldest of the Lesser Summon Spirits. As more elves and half elves learned the laws of utilizing magic for miscellaneous functions; her powers increased.

Minerva; the Summon Spirit of Wisdom appeared soon after; the second of the Lesser Spirits to be born from the life giving potentiality of the Tree of Mana. Scholars of note amongst the Elven and Human Races adopted her as their patron.

Chronos; the Summon Spirit of Time, was the third to emerge. The nature of this particular Spirit to was studied by the Elves who love to solve mysteries. Magic utilizing the nature of Time was unearthed by premier magic users amongst the Elves. To prevent meddling with the flow of time, Chronos forbade further study of the Time Stream, fearing unknown effects.

Artemis; the Summon Spirit of Soul, was the fourth of the Lesser Spirits. The realm of influence claimed by this particular Spirit was a unique one. Never before had there existed a Spirit with influence over the powers of the Mind, Heart and Soul. This Spirit was a lonely one, appearing only rarely.

Centuries passed. The Elder Spirits noticed the presence of the younger Spirits and allowed them to join their number. The Conclaves of the Summon Spirits were created at this period in history; one for each rank of Spirits. These two groupings came to be known as the Greater and Lesser Conclaves of Summon Spirits.

Gradually knowledge of their existence spread throughout the world. Shrines were erected in honour of Minerva, Chronos and Artemis. In time summoners sought them out to form pacts. Elyr did not wish for a temple or shrine to be dedicated in her honour; nor would she allow the formation of pacts with any summoner that sought her out for just such a purpose. Wherever magic or Mana lingered or was called upon for a working; Elyr felt she was being honoured.

Elyr also had another purpose, one long since lost to the pages of history, forgotten by the fragile memories of mortal beings. She guarded the Tree of Mana and the Spirit Well. Unknown to the other Spirits of both Conclaves, one last shimmering fruit lay suspended within the lofty branches of the enigmatic Tree.

_**Excerpt 1 from 'History of the Hidden Race' written by Professor Raine Sage during the World Regeneration journey.**_

_**~:O:~**_

_**Author Note: here it is the revamped version of Second Restoration! I hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think!**_


	2. The Elyrians

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe, may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: 0.2 of ?**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. However, just as Cruxis sends the oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, a race of enigmatic beings, long thought to myth deign to walk the mirror worlds. However Yggdrassil, leader of Cruxis and Yuan, leader of the Renegades, also detect faint trace of ancient power stirring within the two mirror worlds.**_

_**They are searching, seeking. . . **_

_**For the one who hides within their soul. . **_

_**A power that could save them all.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 0.2: The Elyrians**_

_**~:O:~**_

The Tree of Mana still held one solitary fruit suspended from within its branches; that was reaching completion. One that would soon fall and reveal a new being.

The shimmering fruit fell; exposing what was within. A new race now walked the world of Symphonia. They appeared to be human, but flew through the skies, driven by iridescent wings of magic. This new race began to look for a purpose for their existence, but being different from the other races born of the Tree; they were mistrusted and driven from the lands they tried to settle upon. Their like had never before been glimpsed upon the world.

Elyr; the ruling Spirit of the Lesser Conclave noticed these unusual voyagers, ever searching for a place to call their own. Elyr spoke with Minerva, who allowed them to settle near her shrine, located high up within the mountains near the region that would later be known as the Kingdom of Balacruf. Elyr revealed the knowledge of the Eternal Circle to the travellers. They took her name in gratitude for finding them a place where they could dwell freely, without harming anyone; to freely explore their emergent talents. There were individuals amongst the Elyrians who chose to follow the precepts of the other three Spirits of the Lesser Conclave.

History would now know these beings as the Elyrians or Elyrian Seraphim. Their cities were known as Aeries; being built high amongst the mountaintops. Teleportation platforms were established for those who could not fly to enter the cities freely. The reclusive Mana tribes, hidden from those amongst humanity who misunderstood their nature, co-existed peacefully with the Elyrians. Spirit Cats and Dragonlords were soon a commonplace sight within the lofty Aeries of the winged Elyrians.

The Elyrian Seraphim were, however human in appearance; were disparate from their human kin. When the force of the Life Stream began to filter through their blood; physical alterations began to occur. Upon reaching a certain age; their eyes would change to a deep emerald green in hue. The symbol of the Eternal Circle appeared upon their skin; glowing with the innate radiance of Mana, at the base of the neck. Affixed to the skin of their forehead, resting in the middle and above the brows shone a unique mystical gemstone. This was known as the Eye of the Spirit, granting all Elyrians the ability to discern to a certain extent what another living being was thinking or feeling. This feature alone made the Elyrians different from other sentient beings.

The differences in their mental nature became noticeable as their civilization matured in knowledge under the blessings of the Lesser Conclave. The Elyrians were generally peaceful, preferring to use their powers to assist those in need.

They honoured the beliefs of the Eternal Circle; that every living being, Human, Elves, Dwarves, Ethereal Dragons, Spirit Cats, also those in-between, were intertwined with each other. That life and death were interlinked within an endless cycle. That every living, vibrant spirit were in turn connected to a spiritual nexus called the Life Stream; ever flowing with Mana. This mystical network was rooted within the Tree of Mana; a full and complete cycle; Mana and magic ever flowing outwards and inwards; the Eternal Circle.

An Elyrian Seraph could sense the strong links binding the Tree and the planet together. They were also capable of detecting the more fragile bindings between the various races that dwelled within the world. Once the Elyrians had learned to fully merge with the Eternal Circle; various gifts began to awaken within them. Healing, the ability to forge Mana into a form of power known as Crystal Sorcery, the gift of touching the living soul of another through Elantyr. The greatest gift they learned; under the tutelage of the Lesser Summon Spirits was the capability to wield magic.

In time, the Elves learned of the presence of the Elyrians. When the Elven Elders took note of the work the Elyrians were undertaking; assisting those that required it or protecting the Mana tribes, also ensuring that the Tree of Mana was safe from threat, the Elves decided to provide further tutelage within the arts of magic to the Elyrian Seraphim. The Elyrians gladly accepted the lessoning the Elves imparted to them; as it would assist them in furthering their honouring of the precepts passed down to them from Elyr, the Shining Maiden.

_**Precepts of Elyr:**_

_Assist those in need; harming none._

_Serve the Summon Spirits with reverence and grace._

_Impart understanding of the Mana Tribes to those who do not know their true nature._

_Protect the Tree of Mana; that which granted Symphonia life._

Deep bonds of friendship were formed between the two races; who each revered the Tree of Mana in disparate ways. Soon the offspring of the Elyrian Seraphim were sent to the elves in Heimdall for tutoring in more than just the principles of magic. By channelling the Life Stream and Mana energy together; potent spells were discovered. These spells were called Elyrian Magic. Utilizing the lessons learned under the guidance of the elves, Elyrians managed to couple magic and the energy of the Life Stream into crystalline forms known as _**Lore**_ and _**Seraphic Crystals**_. Thus was a unique form of magic unearthed by those of Elyrian Blood: _**Crystal Sorcery**_.

Using the newly discovered method of capturing branches of magic within cores of mystical crystals, several uses were found. Especially those of the two types of altering crystals known as _**Lore**_ and _**Seraphic Crystals**_; these were forged in rites known only to the Balance Priests and Priestesses. These two crystals were only passed on to those Elves and Humans who were deemed trustworthy enough to use the powers granted to them by joining with these crystals.

The Lore Crystals granted normal humans the capability to use low to midlevel magic, also extending their lifespan by several centuries. They were known as Lore Crystal Users.

The Seraphic Crystals were more powerful in the scope of gifts awakened in the recipient. Their lifespan was lengthened to one paralleling that of an Elyrian. Gifts of magic were also awakened, to use the low, mid and high level spells. Along with the gift of flight. But the ability to sense and merge with the Life Stream was a gift that belonged to the Elyrians alone. Not all individuals were compatible with the Seraphic Crystals. Many Elves, intrigued by the Elyrian Spells, bonded with the Seraphic Crystals; living alongside the Elyrians within their mountain cities.

There was one realm of magic that bonding with Lore and Seraphic Crystals could not grant: that of intertwining the enigmatic powers of the Eternal Circle and the branches of elemental magic. This remained the sole province of the Elyrian Seraphim. To be more precise, the realm of study by those who used the powers of the Eternal Circle, the followers of Artemis: the Balance Priests and Priestesses.

Many spells of healing, seemingly with miraculous effects were learned with the passage of centuries. Minerva, Summon Spirit of Knowledge created an order of Scholars in order to note down such valuable information. Under the meticulous recording of healing enchantments by the Scholars of Minvera, an evolved form of the _**Seraphic Crystal **_was accidentally discovered. After centuries of meticulous study, the effects of wearing such a crystal became a closely guarded secret, known only by the _**Shyria**_ and high ranking Mage Guardians.

_**Excerpt 2 from 'History of the Hidden Race' written by Professor Raine Sage during the World Regeneration journey.**_

_**~:O:~**_

_**Author's Note: here is the second part of the prologue! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The terms in bold will be explained as the story expands.**_


	3. The Kharlan War and the Tree of Mana

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe, may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: 0.3 of ?**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. However, just as Cruxis sends the oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, a race of enigmatic beings, long thought to myth deign to walk the mirror worlds. However Yggdrassil, leader of Cruxis and Yuan, leader of the Renegades, also detect faint trace of ancient power stirring within the two mirror worlds.**_

_**They are searching, seeking. . . **_

_**For the one who hides within their soul. . **_

_**A power that could save them all.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 0.3: The Kharlan War and the Withering of the Tree of Mana**_

_**~:O:~**_

An Elyrian Oracle foresaw the demise of the Tree of Mana. They tried to intervene when hostilities between two neighbouring Kingdoms escalated. When their warnings went unheeded; the Elyrians began to plan in secret; for a means to save the Tree.

Then the War began. Mithos the Hero and his companions managed to forge a peace treaty between the two participating Kingdoms; in an attempt to save the Tree of Mana. But any action came too late. The Tree withered away; leaving behind a Seed. Before the Elyrians had a chance to retrieve it; the Seed vanished. Fearing reprisal; the Elyr departed their cities, taking with them any Lore Crystal and Seraphic Crystal Users with them. No-one knew where they journeyed to. No indication of their final destination was left.

The Lesser Conclave departed their shrines, departing into the depths of Symphonia. Elyr was the last to leave. As Elyr departed, she gave voice to what would be known as Elyr's Promise:

_'Summoned into the light of the Holy Tree by the First of my Children,_

_The life giving powers of the Holy Tree shall be eternal,_

_Casting its grace and blessing of Mana throughout the unified world.'_

Elyr's Promise passed beyond the fragile reminiscence of mortal recollection. Any knowledge of Elyr's existence faded from human memory. The Elyrian Seraphim vanished; never to be seen or heard from again. Yet vague hints still remained; on the world of Sylvarant, occasionally unearthed within ruins or located upon mosaics within Asgard: the City of Ruins.

Artefacts pertaining to the Elyrians were occasionally unearthed. Priests dedicated to the Church of Martel often found such items to be deemed heretical and were destroyed. There were a few scholars, who intrigued by the enigma such a mythological race posed, were determined to solve it. All they had to go on were legends passed down from one generation to the next.

A myth referencing their vanished civilization was still spoken of, passed down from one generation to the next.

_**The Shining Race**_

_Thus the Elyrians were born from the shelter of the Tree of Mana. Elyr, the Summon Spirit of Mana, the Shining Maiden, taught them to intertwine their soul's essence with the Eternal Circle. In her honour they took her name; calling themselves the Elyrian Seraphim. Connected to the world through the Eternal Circle; they traversed the skies of Symphonia upon radiant, crystalline wings. Pledging to protect the Mana Tribes from the persecution of those who would not understand them for what they are. _

_Pledging their lives in perpetual service to the Greater and Lesser Summon Spirits; to protect the Tree which granted them their lives and powers. They were friend to elvenkind; learning the arts of magic and healing. But with the inexplicable demise of the Tree of Mana; their civilization vanished. Nearly all trace of them fell from human knowledge; until only the elves knew they had existed at all._

Remnants of their language were often found upon ancient monuments. All of the script was undecipherable to both human and elven scholars. But there was one phrase that was repeated endlessly; often accompanied by beautiful murals and mosaics. This phrase was found carved upon crystalline stele located throughout the entirety of the lands.

_'Fiea Shyria du Shen tirhin lanna feia Yilan.'_

Nestled beneath the words, inset within the earthen, marred surface was an insignia. The endless round device that represented the Eternal Circle was displayed in shimmering gems; glittering with the fire of Mana. Within the Eternal Circle emblem; an ankh; but the import of the second symbol was unfathomable. That was an enigma which would remain unsolved for many years.

But there those who believed that the Elyrians were not as deceased as legends say. A society dedicated to confirming or denying this was formed. To hide what they were trying to accomplish from the eyes of the Church of Martel, those belonging to this organisation called themselves the Archaeologists Guild.

_**Excerpt 3 from 'History of the Hidden Race' written by Professor Raine Sage during the World Regeneration journey.**_


	4. Act 1: Diary of an Elven Professor

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe, may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter 1 of ?**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal.**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. However, just as Cruxis sends the oracle to the next Chosen of the Mana Lineage, a race of enigmatic beings, long thought to be myth deign to walk the mirror worlds. However Yggdrassil, leader of Cruxis and Yuan, leader of the Renegades, also detect faint traces of ancient power stirring within the two mirror worlds.**_

_**They are searching, seeking. . . **_

_**For the one who hides within their soul. . .**_

_**A power that could save them all.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 1: Diary of an Elven Professor**_

_**~:O:~**_

_**Personal Diary of Professor Raine Sage**_

_A messenger arrived from the Archaeologist's Guild early this morning with a sealed dispatch. To be more precise a small parcel. I haven't received a package from my fellow scholars for some time now. Upon opening it, I found a scrap of paper tucked inside the first box._

_It was a note. The wax seal holding the slippery paper closed denoted who sent it. I have a friend, to be more precise a contact in the Mercenary Guild. The symbol embossed in the wax proved it came from Valerian, a scholar of note in intellectual circles and a warrior bonded in service to the Mercenary Guild._

_The letter detailed what I would find contained in the various boxes. Artefacts were recently discovered near the ruins of the Balacruf Mausoleum. Ruins pertaining to the mythical Elyrian Seraphs had been unearthed, a signal indicating perhaps this race were not the figment of legend at all. Dilapidated remnants of what seems to be a medium sized town were unearthed approximately a year ago. The architecture obviously denotes a high level of civilization, yet the buildings seem to have been left for the ages to wreck havoc upon._

_A map was included with the letter Valerian sent to me. I have yet to scrutinize the map. It will receive my full attention later on. I am intrigued by the contents of the packages sent to me. _

_A sense of excitement came over me as I perused the various objects Valerian managed to send to me, despite the threat of being captured by Desians. A delicate platinum circlet, inset with varying stones came from the first container. Due to my elven blood, I could detect the thrum of ancient magic permeating the entirety of its form, including the crystals. I tried to access and merge with the power within the circlet. To my disappointment I could not._

_The second object appears to be a hand device. The artistry involved in the crafting of this object fascinates me. Pieces of silver metal have been curved to fit perfectly over the fingers of one hand. Another, a small plate resting over the palm; firmly holds a flat, circular shaped crystal in place. Another strip of metal curves around the wrist, halting a few inches from the elbow joint. This item has been crafted in such a manner that if worn it appears as if ivy is twining around the arm of the individual who chooses to wear it. One thing I have ascertained, the crystalline stone pulsed with light and energy when resting against my skin. Again, I could sense mana inherent within it. The power is of a type I cannot identify._

_This has led me to believe there are branches of magic elvenkind like me have not yet discovered. It seems the Elyrians did. Mayhap the peculiar gemstone is connected to this unfamiliar magic. I hope time will grant me further leisure to look into this. With sixteenth birthday of the Chosen drawing closer, it may not be possible. Valerian has asked me to examine these items. I will do what I can._

_I cannot fathom the purpose of this particular item. I am certain of one fact; whatever this article is, only a female can use it. Out of curiosity I tried to slip the hand piece over my right hand. It was a perfect fit. I will keep both the circlet and the hand device. Both warrant further study._

_The final object captured my attention. A bracelet comprised of the same metal as the circlet and hand adornment fell from the smallest container. This also seems to have been crafted for the usage of a woman. Elegant, flowing script runs along the length of the gleaming band, interspersed with miniscule jewels. Brushing fingertips over the stones, magic surged up in response to my own innate gifts. The more familiar mystic essences of the elements rushed across my thoughts._

_My own capacity to wield and direct the elemental affinities is limited. I have enough to perceive, but not to manipulate. My talents lay in the areas of Healing and Light magic. The weaves, as far as I can determine are masterfully done, the power still bright and strong despite the march of centuries. The known types of elemental magic are confined within the crystalline beads, as well as traces of the unknown mana. I may have to collaborate with fellow members of the Archaeologist's Guild. They may have information I have, as of yet not gained access to._

_One fact is certain. With the finding of these artefacts, the Elyrians are no longer mythical beings. They are tangible. Somewhere, hidden in the wilds of Sylvarant they may still be dwelling; remaining aloof from the rest of us. Personally, I wonder what they would think of our world as it is now._


	5. A Priestess Part 1

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Genre: games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Rating: T for now, may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Chapter: 2 of ?**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the properties of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. However, just as Cruxis sends the oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, a race of enigmatic beings, long thought to be myth deign to walk the mirror worlds. However Yggdrassil, leader of Cruxis and Yuan, leader of the Renegades, also detect faint traces of ancient power stirring within the two mirror worlds. They are searching, seeking for a long hidden power, one that could unite the two worlds.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 2: A Priestess who isn't what she appears to be: Part 1**_

**~:O:~**

Tethe'alla, the cold distant moon cast its pearly rays down upon the darkened earth. Everything the moon's bright glow touched became stained with dappled shades of grey, making the world below seem as if it were captured within a painting. Shining points of stars flickered against the backdrop of a twilight, shadowed sky.

A cacophony of sounds, animals out for their nightly hunt carried on the wind. Chirrups, delicate, fluting birdsong could be heard also. A sign the land under the shrouding hand of night was stirring, awakening from slumber. Fainter light, coming from the direction of the nearby Temple of Martel cast the ancient, mossy stones in a gentle nimbus, driving back the clinging dark.

A creak echoed within the night. Within the small vestibule of the Temple, a door opened. A cloaked figure; back curved with age and clutching onto a stout walking stick slowly strolled through, pausing briefly to close the stout wooden door. Removing a lantern from its hook on the wall, the mysterious individual slowly made their way through the dim night, cane tapping against the marble flagstones of the Temple causeway and down the moss strewn steps. Marble pillars, riddled with striations littered the hillside as the shrouded person made their sedately way through the gloom.

Passing through the gate of the Temple, the lantern cast aside after being extinguished, the walking pace of the cloaked figure increased, the stick no longer being used as a means of support. Wrinkled hands emerged from the draping folds of the mantle, throwing back the hood, revealing the face of the elderly woman.

Lively, gentle eyes shone from a face lined with the passage of years, traces of a once luminous beauty still apparent. Wisps of long grey hair escaping from a confining braid stirred about her face, teased free by the night breeze. The woman removed the wrap, the light of the faraway stars gliding over her white, gold and violet priestess garb. Walking further away from the Temple of Martel a smile came to her.

She enjoyed nights like these. Walking under the pristine glow of the moon of Tethe'alla, feeling the night winds against her skin was always a pleasure for her. Then she recalled the specific reason she had ventured so far from the relative safety of the Temple. Setting her feet upon the worn woodcutter's track leading into Iselia Forest, she cast furtive glances around her, scanning the immediate area. No-one from the Village of Oracles, Iselia, would venture far outside the boundaries, not even on an ethereally picturesque night like this. Not with a Human Ranch situated past the local forest.

Desians roamed the land, taking any human they encountered to Human Ranches. Those that were snatched were never heard from again. The only humans the Desians dared not touch or attempt to kidnap were members of the Aurora Mercenary Guild. The fighters bonded to the Guild were said to be fierce warriors. Their reputation was known throughout Sylvarant. Even Desians avoided contact with these mercenaries.

Not detecting any nearby human presence, the gnarled walking cane and mantle were placed upon a silvering tree stump next to the right hand side of the path. Crouching down, the priestess carefully pushed aside blades of long grass, until she found what she had been seeking. A small, rectangular crystalline panel, a hand-span in width, lay secreted within the middling length grass, nestled against a boulder. Carved on the surface of the pane, an impression of a starflower, each petal and mark clearly defined.

Fumbling under her tabard, the priestess of Martel removed a small cloth wrapped bundle, held closed with string. Untying the flaps of material, an item of jewellery glistered under the light of the distant stars. A starflower, hanging from a plaited silver chain lay on the fabric, the rich tones of the various gems inset as petals, gleamed richly under the shine of the moon. Tucking the rough bag into her tunic, the priestess slid the necklace over the smooth patina of the crystal plate, halting when a faint click rang out.

Silvering pinpricks of light, the colour of pure mana erupted from the ground, close to the vividly glowing stele. A warp platform pushed through plant, foliage and dirt, innate power humming. Removing the starflower necklace the priestess rose, brushing dust from her long skirt. Stepping onto the teleportation dais, her slight figure became encased within a pillar of energy. Her small form rippled, and then dissipated amidst an explosion of radiance.

**~:O:~**

Mist, thick and clinging permeated the chamber, twining around the bases of ivy strewn columns. Chiming sounded, a warp point shrouded within the fog activating. A humanoid shape materialized, gaining solidity. The aged, stooped cleric walked away from the teleport pad, straightening with every step she took. Violet luminescence so dark, the hue verging on deepest black washed over her entire body. As the wave of magic dispersed, the elderly priestess no longer stood within the expanse of the room.

In her place stood another woman; one rather different than the citizens of Iselia had come to know. Luminous blue eyes gazed serenely from a face now unmarked by the passage of time. She no longer bent over as she walked through her mysterious surroundings, her frame now resembling that of a younger woman. Long blonde hair, showing no traces of either grey or silver pulled back from her face in a long, thick confining braid. Resting on her pale forehead, above her brows, lay a crystalline starflower. Her priestly vestments no longer trailed upon the ground, stopping short at her boots. That wasn't the only thing about the priestess of Martel that had undergone a drastic alteration.

A sapphire cabochon rested at the base of her throat, the jewel held against her skin by an ornate, metallic collar. The band seemed to be crafted of ivy leaves and vines, plaited together in a delicate weave. A solitary starflower clasp securely held the blue crystal in place. The pendant the cleric used to activate the teleportation device swung freely in time to her footsteps. Setting her feet upon a path of white marble, lightstones affixed to stele spaced at regular intervals alongside the sides of the pathway. Specks of brilliance twinkled in the distance, indicating the route she would take to reach her destination. The muted glow of crystals, light spells captured inside the core ignited as she passed, as if sensing her presence. The magic then dimmed as it was no longer needed.

This place never ceased to amaze the holy woman as she continued her walk through the cavernous antechamber. During her previous visits here, the individual she conversed with always met up with her further in. Jewelled mosaics flashed by as her walking pace increased. Openings, indicating there were other chambers in her location branched off the track she followed, their interiors shadowed in gloom. Sculptures comprised of crystal lined the curves of the passageway.

The barely perceptible image of shifting waters moved over the ceiling of the underground cavern, a sign the meeting place grew near. As she approached, the sound of chiming water running over stone filled the passage.

She halted before an outcropping of rock, standing behind it, shielding her body from the sight of those who dwelled in this enigmatic place. A large, circular body of water lay before her; the size of a small lake, light dancing within its depths. Six statues; maidens garbed in flowing robes, wings extending from their backs ringed the pool, large spheres of translucent crystal held in their grip; stone arms extended over their heads. Mystical luminosity writhed within the centre of each orb; beams of force emanating from them; arcing downwards and striking the glistening surface. Ornamental seating lay between each statute, coloured by the magical radiance from the large crystals.

Subdued chanting rang out, indicating to the priestess that another person stood quite close by. Moving out from behind the rough, jagged wall the cleric of Martel saw another figure seated on a bench, one hand extended out over the restlessly stirring waters of the pool. Walking closer, one booted foot impacted a shard of stray rock, causing it to go skittering along the ground, striking the base of the nearest statue.

The noise seemed loud, echoing within the vast expanse. Without turning, acknowledging her presence, a feminine voice spoke.

'Welcome Phaidra.'

_**Author's Note: readers, please review and let me know how I am doing with this fiction. Suggestions on how to improve my writing are welcome. Flames and insults will not be tolerated. However, anonymous reviews saying idiotic statements such as, 'you suck', like the one I received the other day, will be promptly erased.**_

_**Since this upload is rather long, I'm splitting it into two parts.**_


	6. A Priestess Part 2

**_Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix._**

**_Genre: games, fantasy, fan continuation._**

**_Rating: T for now may go higher in later uploads._**

**_Chapter: 2.2 of ?_**

**_Came to her Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the properties of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!_**

**_Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. However, just as Cruxis sends the oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, a race of enigmatic beings, long thought to be myth deign to walk the mirror worlds. However Yggdrassil, leader of Cruxis and Yuan, leader of the Renegades, also detect faint traces of ancient power stirring within the two mirror worlds. They are searching, seeking for a long hidden power, one that could unite the two worlds._**

**_Second Restoration_**

**_Act 2: A Priestess who isn't what she appears to be Part 2_**

**~:O:~**

The other woman's voice rang out, low and melodious. Phaidra felt her inner tension abate to an extent. With a faint rustle of cloth, the unknown occupant of the chamber rose, pulling back the hand stretched out over the shifting waters. Lowering the hood of her robe, she turned to face the priestess. Luminous emerald eyes, ringed with blue around the iris gazed at Phaidra steadily. Above her eyebrows rested a small crystalline starflower, glowing with an innate radiance. Long, ebony hair framed a pale face. Her white and silver dress, adorned with sparkling jewels whispered across the flagstones as she approached. A plaited silver girdle, holding the garment in at her waist, swayed in time to her steps.

Phaidra smiled; the last remnants of tension dissipating.

'Greetings Sharra.'

Sharra extended one hand, palm facing outwards. The pendant dangling from her fingers, Phaidra covered Sharra's hand with her own. Where skin touched skin, golden radiance flared; motes of light dancing around the two women. The jewel affixed to Phaidra's throat pulsed in reaction to the gathered force.

'Damnit. Forgot about that.' A faint blush stained Sharra's face. 'Those _thyr _crystals always react to the presence of their creator.'

A laugh escaped Phaidra. 'And you didn't think mine would?'

'I am not as I once was Phaidra.' Sharra admitted, sighing. 'I am just glad I managed to save your life. Even with the specific gifts of my bloodline suppressed, I possessed enough healing skill to help you.'

Phaidra flinched at the reminder of that fateful night, many years in the past. The night after her youngest child Tiralia, the previous Chosen of Mana departed the village of Iselia on her own journey of World Regeneration, Phaidra remained alone at the Temple of Martel. The other priests having departed just after the setting of the sun, the High Priestess remained alone, attempting to find solace in prayer at the loss of one of her precious children.

None had been forthcoming. Upon her departure from the small Temple, Desians attacked, leaving her with serious injuries. As she felt her life fading, a voice spoke to her, pulling her back from the brink of death. As strength returned to her frail body, Phaidra caught a glimpse of the person who saved her life. And she couldn't have been more grateful. Phaidra had been taken to the Great Sanctuary. For days her wounds were treated with advanced healing techniques.

During that period, the cleric of Martel came to know Sharra. Learned much, including the fallacy of Martellism; the falsehood of the scriptures she had been raised to believe in since birth. Grief plagued her, until Sharra offered her another way of living.

The knowledge of Elyr's Promise.

Sharra gave Phaidra a choice. The priestess of Martel made her decision. She would continue to live as a follower of Martel, appearing to be devout. There were consequences. Phaidra no longer visibly aged. Her physical capabilities increased to a major extent. Noticing the problems experienced by Phaidra, Sharra taught the cleric the usage of magic. A glamour to hide her unchanging appearance. Phaidra returned to Iselia, under the protection of an Auroran mercenary.

With the passage of time, Phaidra manipulated the energies of the Spirit weave to blend in with the citizens of Iselia, whilst raising her granddaughter Collete. She watched and recorded what she could, passing along any information. Her granddaughter grew, blossoming into a beautiful young woman. Then the event she had been dreading finally occurred. Whilst cleaning the altar on the uppermost floor of the Temple, a messenger descended. Collete would undergo the Journey of World Regeneration. Upon hearing this, Phaidra waited for an opportunity to impart the news to Sharra.

Noting the expression on the other woman's face, Sharra drew back. The priestess' pallor had become deathly white, her lips compressed. A tremor ran through her frame.

'The oracle will be sent?' Sharra asked, her voice low.

Phaidra nodded in reply, not trusting herself enough to answer with a verbal response. Sharra rose, striding back to the pool within the centre of the room. Pushing back her right sleeve, Sharra once again extended her hand over the waters, palm downwards. Chiming rang out, the large orbs flaring bright with power.

'Fate must be smiling upon us Phaidra.' Sharra regarded the silent priestess. 'The sleeping soul has once again emerged; the echo of its presence surging through the Infinite Cycle.'

**_Author's Note: a big thank you to the people who have read this fiction thus far. Reviews would be great. I know my fiction isn't as great as those by Alaia Skyhawk and freakyanimegal, but I am trying my best. I'll hope you'll stick with me as I work through this novel length fiction. The starflower will be explained later. If you ever see it in a novel called Mage Light, it has been written by me._**

**_The next chapter: A Mage Guardian should be up a week or slightly more, time willing. Plus from now on the chapters will be posted in their full length as well. See you all then!_**


	7. A Hidden Watcher

_**Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership of any of the characters of Tales of Symphonia. The game and requisite characters are the property of Namco. I am just using them for a fiction of my own creation. Any original characters, Summon Spirits, plot devices, the Elyrian Seraphim, spells, Seraphic Crystals and Seraphic Key Crests are my own creations. The original character, Astalia Silverlight, the Spirit Cat Cub Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk, so please don't steal them.**_

_**Author's Note: speech with * this symbol denotes telepathy.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 4: Hidden in the Darkness a Watcher**_

A certain silver haired elven woman was taking a quiet walk through Iselia Forest. It was Seventh Day; the one day of the week when everyone could relax from the burdens and stresses of life. Even Professors. Raine Sage was always in the habit of going for an early morning walk. She liked the silence of the early morning; that special time when everything was on the cusp between sleeping and waking. Her younger brother Genis was up and studying already, even though it was officially a day of rest. She was gathering her thoughts, mentally planning the lessons for the coming week. The elven scholar wasn't really paying that much attention to the general direction she was currently heading in. With her next step, her right foot impacted rather painfully against an object secreted within the long grass.

'DAMNATION!'

Raine's rather loud, irate shout scared the birds out of the nearest trees. A myriad assortment of varicoloured feathers fluttered down gently to the grass, as the birds flew through the trees. Feeling rather cross, Raine flopped down onto the dewy grass, not caring that there would be stains in a certain place on her trousers. Muttering imprecations under her breath, she hastily yanked off her right boot, dropping it into the dust beside her. Her cane was flung unceremoniously in the other direction, narrowly missing a small rabbit scurrying away from this unexpected intrusion. As Raine began to examine her bruised toes that were just starting to turn a rather bright hue of purple, she caught sight of an object twinkling amongst the dislodged earth and foliage. The pain in her right foot, now becoming just a fleeting thing, Raine plucked the item from the dust.

As Raine held the dirt streaked item within her fingers, she could sense lingering traces of mana emanating from it. But there was something peculiar about this item; the aural signature of the mana inherent within it was ancient, old beyond reckoning. Raine brushed away the remnants of earth, finally revealing the object she had inadvertently uncovered. It was a golden bracelet, the gleaming surface unmarked with the immense passage of centuries. A miniscule, rainbow orb was affixed to the centre, shimmering with the innate presence of magic. But the engraved lettering caught the attention of the scholar. As she raised the bracelet into the full light of the sun, Raine recognized the alien lettering as that pertaining to the mythical Elyrian race. The surface of the adornment was covered with it. Situated around the crystal were four signs. She clapped the bracelet onto her right wrist.

A large, happy grin curved her lips as she realized just exactly what she had discovered. Raine knew that these symbols denoted the areas of influence governed by the Spirits of the Lesser Conclave. People had begun to say that these spirits had never existed at all; along with the Elyrians.

Raine had always thought there was some truth behind the myths concerning these beings. She had memorized every scrap of knowledge she had thought to be pertinent about them.

'This is marvellous! Absolutely marvellous! I've found an artefact from the Elyrian Civilization!' A manic gleam shone from her cobalt eyes. 'This jewel appears to be some form of Crystal Sorcery! The metal appears to be Illithium, designed to hold Crystal Sorcery safely! I must note this down!'

Raine fumbled briefly in her pockets for her notebook and a pencil then cursed as she recalled leaving them on the table at her home. Remembering she had hit her foot against something hidden within the lush grass, Raine surveyed the debris. A crystalline stele, similar to those located throughout the entirety of Sylvarant lay before her. The symbol of the Eternal Circle was there, inset with various gems. The phrase that had been repeated upon all of the stele was there also:

'_Fiea Shyria du Shen tirhin lanna feia Yilan.'_

But there was something different about this one. The insignia of the ankh was missing. Instead there was a flat disc inset within the stele. There was a slight depression within the disc, an indication that something should fit there. Raine ran caressing fingers over the bracelet that now clasped her right wrist. Then a sudden notion struck her. Ignoring the pain in her sore foot, Raine stood up. Slowly making her way to the Elyrian stele Raine pressed the bracelet against the depression, hoping for a reaction of some kind. None was forthcoming.

'Oh well, I should have expected that. But this discovery is fantastic! I must return home and consult my books!' Raine began to walk in the general direction of Iselia Village when she once again tripped over a rock hidden in the dirt. Raine tumbled to the ground, her body spinning until her back impacted against a tree. But instead of cursing like she normally would have done, Raine laughed. The elation of her discovery was obviously stronger than the pain of her bruises at that particular moment. Raine stood up, staggering to one side, before she straightened herself. Totally oblivious to the twigs, dead leaves and the odd insect or two tangled in her silver hair, Raine set off for home.

But she had forgotten her right boot and staff, which lay upon the grass, beneath the trees.

_~O~_

Unknown to the excited scholar, a rather strange creature slipped from the shadow of the densely packed trees, watching the rapidly disappearing figure of the elven scholar. A white cub, amber stripes just starting to faintly appear upon its otherwise pristine fur, had watched the whole scene with an avid sense of curiosity. A silver collar fitted neatly over the sleek coat, the sunlight setting the various gems aglitter with an innate radiance. A faintly amused expression was briefly seen upon the furred face, which was followed by a derisive snort.

_**Scary, very scary! Scholars are so weird! That was only an Entry Bracelet and she goes nuts! **_The cub's tail flicked restlessly. _**But that one wasn't meant for her! Oh well, there are more!**_

'Deia are you there? Where have you run off to this time?' A woman's voice, clearing showing her irritation at no response to her query, emerged from the trees.

_I__** am here, Astalia. But we have a slight problem. The Entry Bracelet meant for the first of the new Shyria has been discovered and removed by an elven woman. **_Deia scanned the surrounding area, until her eyes alighted upon the woman standing just within the shelter of the trees.

Laughter escaped her. 'Despite all the years I've been here, scholars haven't changed one bit! In fact they have gotten even more frightening than usual! Especially that one! Even a knock to the foot and back didn't stop her!'

Still chuckling slightly, she stepped into the light of the day, the sunlight caught amongst the feathers of her white and silvering wings. Her brown and green eyes also watched the passage of the limping scholar until she disappeared fully from even her line of vision. The cub scampered over to where his winged companion was standing. Astalia raised her right arm, a bracelet twin to the one that Raine had carried away with her, on her wrist. Astalia softly began to sing, a spell circle writhing upon the dewy grass. The crystal erupted into rainbow brilliance. A ray of mana burst from the core of the shining jewel, touching the depression upon the stele.

'_Ceia.' _Astalia whispered the final word of the incantation.

Rumbling echoed from the ground, as loose earth flew up into the air. Another spell circle danced through the air. Astalia touched it, placing her hand, palm laid flat upon the circle. A slab, previously hidden, moved backwards, showing what had been secreted beneath it. A set of stairs, descending downwards into the depths of the earth were revealed. Crystalline lamps, radiating a faint light, were affixed to the curved walls of the tunnel at intervals, illuminating the passage downwards.

'Come on Deia, we have a lot to report. The others will want to know everything. Including the inexplicable energy burst at Sapphire Dawn Aerie.' Astalia protracted her wings, recalling them back into her body. As she descended the stairwell, Deia rushed past her, running ahead. The slab moved again, covering the entrance. The unsettled dirt slowly drifted back down, falling over where Astalia and Deia had once stood.

As Astalia descended into the cool darkness of the underground passage, the grinding and creaking of mechanisms whirring sounded. A brush of silken fur caught on Astalia's trousers as Deia scampered past. A grating lingered briefly. The rough stone hatch slid shut with a dull thud, cancelling out the brightness of the sunlight. Astalia's wings provided the only illumination within the murky gloom.

_***Hey! Aren't you going to turn the lights on?* **_Deia whined as he halted a few inches away from the Elyrian. _***I can't see the lift platform.***_

Astalia snorted. 'Hang on furball; I'm going to trigger it now. For such a small cub you are so impatient.'

Deia decided not to dignify that with a response.

'_Illumi.' _Astalia whispered one short phrase, accompanied with a slight gesture.

From high up within the black, close to the roof of the tunnel, myriad bursts of radiance erupted, spearing through the darkness, showing what had previously been shrouded. Elui, fixed high up upon the walls of the tunnel, provided light for the two to see by. The tunnel carried on for a few more feet, the stairs extending downwards, until the furthermost step stopped at the base of a door, which had faint light spilling through it.

_***Now that's much better!* **_Deia swiftly ran down the stairs, his amber streaked tail held high.

Astalia smiled, as she watched the antics of the Spirit Cat cub. She retracted her glimmering wings back into her body with a slight flexing of her will. Her long brown hair swayed with the rapidity of her movements, her boots stirring up small eddies of dust. Testament to the last time she had ventured out of this passageway. The last occasion had been a few centuries ago. Deia had not even been born then. As she reached the bottom of the stairwell, she noticed Deia sitting within the centre of the platform, his tail curled around his paws. Astalia stepped onto the circular metallic platform. She sketched a glowing rune within the chilling air. An engraving of a perfect circle, inset within the lift, flared to life, in response to the activation glyph. A faint hum echoed as the platform began to move downwards.

_***What do you think caused Sapphire Dawn Aerie to wake like that?* **_Deia's mind voice was brimming with curiosity. _***I know I've only been around for 400 years, but even a young cat like me knows that no one lives in the Aeries anymore. But only a living being could activate the Mirror Portal there.***_

Astalia gazed down at her feline companion, her expression thoughtful. She had been an Aerie Warden since her race had faded into obscurity. With the surface dwellers believing her race to be extinct, she could come and go as her duties required. All it took to disguise her unusual eyes and the marking at the base of her throat was glamour, a small spell of illusion. With that in place, she could easily pass as a human, which suited her just fine. She had cast this magic upon her emergence from the underground enclave.

'Only a living being could wake the dormant spells and defences the Elder _Shyria_ had placed upon the Aeries prior to their departure.' Astalia sighed. 'But why now? Could someone have emerged from the Shadowed Void after all this time?'

_***Maybe so, maybe no. But something caused the Wards to stir.* **_Deia replied softly, his tail twitching restlessly.

'The Wards were placed upon all the Aeries, when the First Restoration was concluded. That was when the others left. The detection enchantments definitely alerted us to the presence of someone within Sapphire Dawn Aerie.' Astalia was perplexed.

In all of her centuries as a Warden, she and others like her had never seen such an occurrence. She had been left behind, with a small contingent of other Elyrians, Seraphic Crystal Users and a small Clan of Spirit Cats. Their task, appointed to them by the last act of the Ruling Council of _Shyria_; to guard the spell locked Aeries against intrusion and prevent the Shrines of the Lesser Conclave of Summon Spirits from discovery by humans or Desians. The Aeries and the Shrines had been swathed within multiple layers of spells, designed to alert the Wardens to any disturbance; no matter how subtle.

The spells had activated, triggering an alarm within the main Enclave. Astalia had been sent to investigate. But by the time she had reached Sapphire Dawn Aerie, whoever had intruded upon the misty, time locked city had long since departed. The Mirror Portal had been recently used, traces of mana dispersing. The mana signature of an Elyrian and a mature Spirit Cat had raced across the surface of her mind. All she had found was the remnants of a black orb, scattered upon the marble flagstones, strewn between footprints that indicated a humanoid and a feline had been there.

The Wardens left behind, had been told of one occurrence, and one only, that would cause the Aeries to awaken. Astalia straightened.

_Why the heck didn't I realize this earlier! _That thought flared to life within Astalia's thoughts.

She traced another symbol within the air. A loud keening thrummed within the lift shaft. A loud hiss sounded near her feet, followed by a growl that steadily grew louder. Deia had dug his claws into the surface of the platform. Astalia gazed downwards, only to bite back laughter. The Spirit Cat cub had fluffed his fur, from head to foot, making him look much larger than he actually was.

_***Astalia! What the heck are you doing? Are you crazy?* **_Deia hissed again as the lift increased its speed. _***I hate it when you do that!***_

'I know you do furball, that's why I do it.' Astalia chuckled.

_***Meanie.***_Deia grumbled, a little irritated.

The Spirit Cat cub's fur began to settle back into place, until Deia looked like his normal self. The young Cat flipped his tail around his paws, pointedly ignoring his Elyrian companion. After a few minutes the lift began to slow, an indication that it had reached its destination. As the platform finally came to a halt, another doorway was visible, this one much larger than the first one at the very top of the lift shaft. This doorway was much larger, revealing an enormous cavern beyond. As Astalia strode into the room, her steps echoing, a fair indication of how big the room was, Deia ran off, his tail held high like a banner. She knew that the cub was off to see his Clan, having been away from them for a few months.

A flicker of light caught her eye, pinpricks of energy dancing within the exact centre of the chamber. Her gaze alighted upon a magical three dimensional image that had been crafted, during her absence. An image of a planet hovered above the ebony marble flagstones, the magic empowering the representation, casting prismatic shadows across the dark stones. Intrigued by this new fixture within the Hidden Sanctuary, Astalia stepped closer. More details increased with clarification. Then Astalia knew what she was glimpsing. A reflection of the world of Sylvarant; with the locations of the forgotten Aeries, and the Shrines of the Lesser Conclave clearly marked. Sapphire Dawn Aerie was flickering. Apparently the inexplicable energy readings had been noticed by the other Watchers, while she had traversed the world above.

Astalia sighed, heading deeper into the underground complex. Myriad rooms branched away from the Central Corridor she was currently walking down. Located at the very end of the corridor was a room where all Wardens reported their information garnered carefully from their journeying. The room Astalia wanted to use without interruption was the Memory Room, with a specially crafted function. Crystal Sorcery could be utilized within its confines. That was why she was heading there, instead of reporting with the other Wardens upon her return.

Astalia halted before the doors barring entrance to the Memory Chamber. The doors slid open, Astalia stepping through as soon as there was enough space allowing her to do so. When she was inside, the doors closed silently behind her. Astalia scanned the quiescent chamber. Affixed within the centre of the chamber was a white, marble dais, a diminutive pillar erected to waist height. Floating above the pillar was an orb of radiance, a glyph, the Elyrian symbol for memory, contained within. Reaching into a trouser pocket, she removed a small elui, affixed to a metallic band large enough to be slipped onto a finger.

This room had one singular purpose; to record everything Warders had seen during their travels. Once the spell of recording was complete, the ring would be teleported to the Prime Sanctuary located somewhere in Sylvarant. Astalia did not know the location of the Prime Sanctuary. It was deemed to be safer that way, should this Sanctuary be discovered. Astalia placed her right hand within the orb, resting her palm against the glyph. As she sensed the power of the enchantment touch, then merge, with her own power, the process began.

_Warden Astalia Sliverlight reporting. For the past few rotations, I have been traversing Sylvarant. The mana levels are barely enough to sustain the living beings. For one such as I accustomed to using magic whenever I wished within the Sanctuary, I was only able to use the most basic of spells to disguise myself. I have seen much suffering during my travels. The Desians are ever-present, ruling the humans through fear and intimidation. Humanity clings to the hope that the Chosen shall restore this dying world._

_But it will require much more than the sacrifice of the Chosen to regenerate Sylvarant. The Shyria of Elyr must be found, for the Second Restoration to ever occur. But the bloodline of the Shyria of Elyr was lost to us seventeen years ago. But I feel, through my connection with the Eternal Circle, that the bloodline is still out there somewhere. But I cannot tell where. My connection is tenuous at best. Also the unexplained disturbance at Sapphire Dawn Aerie. The Mirror Portal was activated for the first time in since the First Restoration failed, when the Great Tree withered. Something stepped through, from the Shadowed Void. An Elyrian perhaps? Only time can reveal that fact._

_That was when our Lady, the Shining Maiden, departed, leaving behind a Promise that she would one day return, that our people would at last be able to fulfil our purpose. To reignite the Great Tree, allowing mana to restore and heal this dying world. But the tracing spell, passed down from one Shyria to another, at the age of Minor Ascension, has been lost._

_Only the death of the elder Shyria could have prevented the passing on of the spell. Somewhere, out there in the ravaged lands of Sylvarant, there is a sleeping soul. Whether that sleeping soul is the one that will aid in the Second Restoration that I, and the other Wardens have been hoping for, remains to be determined._

_Perhaps the unknown strangers emerging from the Mirror Portal at Sapphire Dawn, was indeed fortuitous. The Desians hold upon the humans dwelling in this sorrowful world is growing ever deeper. The half elves that chose not to join the Desians are faced with persecution and hatred, no matter where they travel._

_When I witnessed the discovery of one of the Entry Bracelets by an elven scholar, it seems our presence will be discovered sooner than we had expected. Perhaps it is far past the time, we break our self imposed exile and walk the surface world again._

A flash of light permeated the room, briefly illuminating its confines as bright as sunlight, then fading rapidly. The ring had vanished from Astalia's right hand. A sign that the information Astalia had stored within the _elui _had been received by another Watcher within the Prime Sanctuary.

Astalia removed her hand from the dancing orb of light. The glyph dispersed. As the light emanating from the lamps slowly began to fade, Astalia vacated the room. Lost deep within thought, the Warden didn't hear the footsteps approaching from the other direction.


	8. A Mage Guardian

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: 4.**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Author's Note: this fanfiction has now become my WriYe project for 2013! Expect regular updates throughout the year!**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. However, just as Cruxis sends the oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, a race of enigmatic beings, long thought to be myth deign to walk the mirror worlds. They are searching, seeking for a long hidden power, one that could help unite the two worlds.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 4: A Mage Guardian**_

**~:O:~**

The mirror world of Sylvarant was dying.

Dionan Skyblade, Mage Guardian and Weaver of the Blades, could no longer deny the stark, inevitable truth. Despite all of his centuries of life and vast powers of magic, his connection to the Infinite Cycle, could he determine a way to halt the degradation of both his race and that of Sylvarant. His people considered him to be one of their leaders, one whom they could look to for protection and answers.

He had none, he possessed none.

The Sight of the remaining Oracles of Chronos was now unreliable. The possible futures of his people could no longer be determined. The more powerful of the Oracles and Balance Priests had long since vacated their physical bodies, surrendering their living essences to the guardianship of those who governed the Hall of Souls. More of the lesser ranked magic users elected to join their peers, having grown tired of their unchanging existence within the Great Sanctuary, connected to and yet not a part of the mirror worlds.

Only a myriad handful of the lesser ranked Healers, Mages and Balance Priests remained, to steer the remnants of their people towards the fading future the High Council of the _Shyria _glimpsed so long ago. Despair pressed against his mental shielding, trying to penetrate his mind with its tainted presence. This dark emotion permeated the entirety of the Great Sanctuary. The very air seemed to be brimming with it.

_My people are failing, losing hope, so few of us remain. _That thought emerged unbidden within the deep of his restless mind.

Within the recesses of his mind, the ageless Mage Guardian felt bleak sorrow for every spirit who gave up on their life, deciding instead to merge with the energies of the Infinite Cycle or leave part of themselves behind within the ethereal Hall of Souls. The moderate talents of the remaining Oracles were not strong enough to provide guidance. An impenetrable veil eclipsed any possible future the Oracles could rip from the fractious pathway of Time.

Summoning his vast powers, he had tried to search for a solution to the plight of his people. His voyaging deep within the Convergence of the All revealed no replies to his requests for assistance. The Spirits dwelling within the Convergence remained silent. They were either deaf to his pleas, or chose to ignore them entirely.

All those beings, who like him, depended on mana for their lives and abilities were fading, dying. The hope ignited by _Elyr's Promise_ was fading, minute by minute, hour by hour. Only a very select few of his people really believed in those words anymore. They were now considered to be fragments of myth only. This saddened him to the core of his soul. He knew those utterances to be truly voiced, yet no one understood their import.

Not since the disappearance of the sleeping soul fourteen years ago, the carrier either unaware of what they had contained within them, or were deceased, murdered by the Desians. An heir had to be living somewhere within the mirror world of Sylvarant, of that fact he was certain. Dionan knew the being or beings that carried its power were out there. All that remained was for him to find them.

Turning into a dim corridor, light-spells captured inside glass orbs high up on the walls illuminated his path, only to fall into shadow as he walked by. He approached a door, pressing one hand against a small panel of softly glowing glass. A voice rang out within the corridor.

_**Aural signature recognized. Welcome Dionan Skyblade.**_

A beacon existed signifying the powers the remaining Weavers and he, as one of the last remaining Mage Guardians were searching for were out there: _**somewhere. **_Within his private quarters, kept amongst his Elemental Blades, lay a delicate sword, crafted to fit the hands of a woman. This blade had one special purpose, known only to a few individuals. The weapon was known as _Light's Song_, named by the person who last wielded it, many years ago. The _luina_ atop the pommel of the sword _Light's Song _aglow with the light of Mana, indicated that to be true. Perhaps it was once again time for him to vacate the safe haven his people erected millennia ago, to traverse the world of Sylvarant.

With a faint hiss the portal opened, revealing the room that lay beyond. At his voiced command light flared, extinguishing darkness from the expanse of the chamber. Multiple blades each one carved with elemental insignia were arranged on the main wall. Dionan halted his emerald and sapphire eyes searching amidst the mass of weaponry for a specific sword. One that he knew would assist him in his Council ordered mission. After a few moments he located the small sword amongst the larger weapons. His eyes widened as he glimpsed the _luina _atop the pommel glowing with a fierce light. This could only signal one thing; an heir to the bloodline was alive. Removing the delicate sword from amongst its much larger companions, the Mage Guardian made the decision to return to Sylvarant. He would record a message for his second in command Valerian Delvarn to cover his day to day duties. With the _luina _atop _Light's Song_ afire, his primary duty had finally become clear.

~:O:~

The sun moved steadily across the sky, as night drew back its sapphire, star strewn mantle. As the shimmering rays of the sun moved across the mountaintops, the morning breeze seemed to carry a whisper of sound as it traversed the lonely mountains near the city of Asgard. As the sun struck the mountains; there was a brief flash of iridescence. As if something was nestled atop the rocky peak. There was. But only the eagles and hawks, flying high upon the air currents could see it. As the clouds parted; the brilliant rays of then sun fully struck the mountaintop, exposing what had previously been hidden. A forgotten city, spires' soaring into the azure skies was there; ancient buildings peeping outwards from amongst the rocky crags.

Dewy mist danced within the silent streets; making the city seem to be ethereal, as if it were in a dreamscape, windows still pristine, unmarred after the untold passage of years, gazed down upon the empty spaces. The ravages of time had not passed through this clandestine place. Only the eagles, journeying through the skies upon majestic wings called this city home now. A few of these creatures were perched atop an enormous, metallic arch that was situated within a cluster of winged statues, their visages turned outwards; staring down upon the horizons of Sylvarant. This city had once been called the Sapphire Dawn Aerie; one of the cities erected upon the mountains by a long forgotten race. Now, no solitary individual knew of its presence, except the birds; who spoke to no one.

Marble statues, mist coiling about their bases, gazed down at the world so far below, as it slowly awoke with the first touch of the life giving sun. The statues had been placed within a courtyard within the epicentre of the silent city. Carved into the bases of the flawless statues was elegant, flowing script; obviously alien in nature. The statues represented the long forgotten quartet of the Lesser Summon Spirits of the Younger Conclave. Crystal spheres of middling size, still perfect in clarity and power since the day of their creation more than 4000 years ago, glittered within the cold, stone fingers of the statues. It seemed the complex spell that kept the Aerie from falling to the vagaries of time was still empowered in some way.

Melodic chiming filtered through the open, misty streets, causing the eagles to take flight at the inexplicable noise. Force sparked to life within the cupped hands of the statues. Grinding sounds, of stone grating against stone, intertwined with the chiming, the winged figures shifted until all of them were facing inwards. Filaments of sorcery extended outwards; writhing across the rune inscribed surface of the timeless arch. Runes etched within the gleaming metal of the arch flickered with an innate radiance as mana built within the circle of statues. Prismatic motes of iridescence coalesced within the empty, yawning space within the arch. After a few moments, the motes converged upon one another, exploding outwards.

What appeared to be a teleportation pad now adorned the blue marble of the quiescent courtyard. A pillar of rainbow hued brilliance formed. A humanoid figure materialized within the column of light, physical details becoming clearer with every passing second.

A man; his short, black hair stirred by the winds, was now standing upon the warping mechanism. His gaze swept the confines of the courtyard he now found himself to be standing within. As he vacated the arch; the mana dispersed, along with the mechanism that had transported him here. A sigh escaped him as he surveyed the Aerie he had once called his home. His emerald eyes, flecked with blue along the iris, swept across the still city, lingering upon every building for a second, and then moving onto the next. He flicked tendrils of his shoulder length black hair away from his face, before the strands became an unwanted annoyance.

He was garbed in silken black tunic and trousers. The tunic was high necked; but open at the front, a perfect circle shone at the hollow of his throat, emitting a faint, roseate glow. His feet were sturdily shod in dark leather boots. Gloves covered his slender fingers. Strapped to his back was a rucksack, literally bulging at the seams; the various sections brimming with various paraphernalia. A slender, silvering sword was also strapped to his back. Affixed to one arm was a white shield; with an omega symbol embossed upon the front. Belted at his waist; contained within a white and gold scabbard was another longer sword.

One arm was extended; fingers splayed to their fullest extent. Levitating above his gloved palm was a slender ebony orb. It gyrated with amazing rapidity, cracks marring its perfect surface. The miniscule fragments fell, impacting upon the marble flagstones with discordant chiming. A look of immense regret passed onto his pale face as he watched the enchanted object destroy itself. The spells placed upon it had ensured that this would occur.

_I knew that would happen. That's the last of the Dimensional luina. There should be more within Sapphire Dawn Aerie; but I will not retrieve them until the Shyria are located, if indeed they can be. In fact, if they are even alive in this decaying world. _He shook the last remnants of the _luina_ from his hands; letting them slip to the marble slabs. _Cruxis cannot be allowed to gain access to the Mirror Portals._

Setting his heavybut sturdy leather pack on the floor Dionan tugged open the rough drawstring. After rummaging within it for a few moments he removed a short black woollen mantle and a starburst cloak brooch. Carefully placing the small sword and his shield upon the ancient flagstones, he began to don the garments when something stirred within his mind.

Memories, long buried within the core of his mind, surged forwards; battering down the barriers he had placed upon them so long ago. Each recollection was as clear as shimmering water, as if it had occurred only moments ago. He tried to banish these unwanted fragments, but each one refused to be pushed back behind mental barriers.

_Four voices raised in unified harmony, as the Shyria of the Lesser Conclave welcomed the birthing of the new day with the Dawn Song, whose melody was carried upon the zephyrs as the last stars disappeared from the skies when the sun made its presence known. The Sapphire Dawn Aerie waking from slumber as the Dawn Song dispelled the arcane shielding that protected the city from intrusion during the twilight hours. Teaching the Shyria about the lore of their people; tutoring them in the ways of magic and the doctrine of the Lesser Conclave. _

_Setting off with another of his people on a journey to end the Kharlan War. The sorrow of his people as the Tree of Mana died; the single shining Seed that was left behind snatched away from his grasp, before his people could retrieve it. _

_The Younger Spirits being sealed until the time was correct for their re-emergence. An intricate spell had been crafted for such a purpose; left behind within the Aeries. This spell had been transmitted throughout the Life Stream, cascading through the stele placed upon the world of Symphonia._

_The decision of the Shyria to send the entirety of their race through the Shadowed Void; leaving behind the Aeries that had been their homes for over four thousand years. Receiving the Summons of the Council of Elders within the Prime City within the Shadowed Void. All of the Elyrians dedicated to following the precepts of Minerva had also received the unexpected Summons. As Dionan entered the Council Chamber, he saw the Orb of Elyr radiating a fierce brilliance within the confines of the cavernous room._

'_Dionan Skyblade, are you sure you wish to undertake this task?' The voice of the Elder Council Leader sounded within his ears as he knelt upon the cool marble of the Council Chamber. 'You are not a follower of the Precepts of Elyr. Your life path has been dedicated to the tenets of Minerva; the Summon Spirit of Knowledge. There is one other, additional problem; you may never be able to return home.'_

'_I do, Wise One.' Dionan stated quietly. He raised his head; emerald eyes regarding the visage of the Council Leader. 'The First Rule of Minerva: Knowledge is Power, an unexpected weapon. Elyr's Orb has made known to us all that the secondary bloodline still exists somewhere within the wilds of Sylvarant. There is no other experienced enough to do go in my stead. I share a fleeting trace of that same power. Only I can go and search for it. Sharra cannot, she must stay on Tethe'alla. You know the problems that the Shyria will face if Cruxis is still active upon the two worlds.'_

'_Very well; I see there is no dissuading you. Should the current living heir die, you will depart and descend to Sylvarant. A Grey Collar Spirit Cat will accompany you. We will ensure that it is one who has not found their Bonded Companion yet. May the blessing of the Lesser Conclave give you the courage to keep your feet upon the path you have chosen, the wisdom to see the right course through the darkest of times. May the Eternal Circle be with you always.'_

_Dionan stood, bowing with respect to the veiled figures seated within the upper confines of the Council Chamber. He turned sharply; swiftly leaving the room. Preparations were planned for and initiated the instance the Council dissolved the session in progress._

The heir had been inexplicably lost, killed fourteen years ago, and with the death any hope of the Second Restoration coming to pass. Standing within the silent courtyard within Sapphire Dawn Aerie, the Mage Guardian donned the final touches to the disguise he would travel under whilst traversing the dying world of Sylvarant. The only physical sign that gave away the fact he wasn't completely human were his unusual eyes, elegantly pointed ears and the crystalline Eye of Mira shining upon his forehead.

As the brilliant sun began to rise over the ancient mountaintop city, a shimmering nimbus of prismatic light erupted from within Dionan's body. As the garnered magic slowly began to disperse, Dionan's countenance was altered. A spell of illusion he cast to hide any sign of his true heritage from those he encountered during his travels. In place of the Mage Guardian stood an Auroran Mercenary of human and elven descent.

His eyes had darkened to a vivid emerald, the curve and pointed tips of his ears seemed to be vague, slightly indistinct. The perfect circle located at the base of his neck no longer seemed to be there. Smooth, unblemished skin lay where the unusual sign once did. As the sun fully rose over the Aerie, Dionan Skyblade gathered up his discarded weapons.

_The mana levels on this world are almost nonexistent. I will not be able to use my wings while I am here. _Strapping on the last blade he walked briskly towards the centre of Sapphire Dawn. _Or most of my higher level spells. Perhaps my choice of disguise, appearing to be a quarter elf was a most fortuitous choice._

Frowning, he continued walking until a roar echoed amongst the spires of Sapphire Dawn.

_**Onward to Act 5: A Spirit Cat.**_


	9. A Spirit Cat

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: 5.**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Author's Note: this fanfiction has now become my WriYe project for 2013! Expect regular updates throughout the year! **__Writing like this indicates telepathic speech_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. Just as Cruxis send the Oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, echoes of a long forgotten power echo throughout Sylvarant. **_

_**During the Journey of World Regeneration, a secret from the barely recalled past of both Lloyd and Kara comes to light, as the Chosen of Mana finds her pilgrimage intertwined with the re-emergence of a race long thought to be dead. The return of these enigmatic beings also brings unexpected revelations for Lloyd and his twin Kara; a matter concerning their deceased mother Anna.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 5: A Spirit Cat**_

**~:O:~**

Well I shouldn't just stand here contemplating the past. That won't do me any good at all.' Dionan murmured. 'I should get going, but that flipping cat hasn't turned up yet!'

Dionan came to a halt, a growl echoing amongst the lofty spires.

A voice, masculine in nature, sounded within the Auroran Mercenary's mind. _ I see you Mage Guardian. _

A faint sound of claws, possibly boots scraping against marble lingered within the darkness. An unknown presence walked within the quiet reaches of the mountaintop city.

_Odd, very odd indeed. I should be the only living being within Sapphire Dawn._

Tightening his grip upon his blade Dionan cast a light spell, warping the summoned mana into an orb. With a thought, the Mage Guardian sent the light-globe plunging into the gloom. The reshaped magic illuminated everything it passed, including a rather large creature standing by the silent fountain within the main square of Sapphire Dawn Aerie.

An immense Cat, intelligence reflected within its sapphire eyes separated from the shadows. Radiance from the light-globe flowed over the silky fur of the great Cat as it cautiously approached. Eyes widening rather than narrowing as he regarded the elegant creature, Dionan noted the simple grey metallic collar the Cat wore. The Council had sent one of the more powerful Cats to aid him

_This Spirit Cat must be the assistance I was promised. _Snorting, the Mage Guardian lessened his tight grip upon his sword.

As if in answer to his voiced complaint; a roar split the silence. From another part of the deserted city emerged a cat. It wasn't an ordinary, pampered house cat; but much larger than one of the common variety. As it slipped free from the shadows; more of this enormous cat was revealed. The Cat possessed a muscular physique, moving with the deadly grace and surefootedness of a confident predator. Its fur coat was white in shade; marked with pale blue stripes. An ornate golden collar was fastened about its neck. Affixed to the centre of the collar was a pale grey crystal. A sense of intelligence was reflected within dark, serious eyes. The creature was a Spirit Cat; one of the fabled Mana Tribes.

'It's about time you got here furball!' Dionan stated impatiently. 'I've been waiting for ages.'

_You have only just arrived Dionan. I felt the mana powering the warp link to the Shadowed Void ignite the instance I set foot within Sapphire Dawn Aerie._The deep mind voice of the Spirit Cat was masculine in nature. That much Dionan could ascertain. _Or did you forget that Spirit Cats can use magic as well? Your 5000 year old brain is going mouldy._

'Before you make a start with the wisecracks, could you tell me your name please?' Dionan asked tartly. This Cat wasn't what he expected him to be. A vague sense of suspicion was forming within his mind.

_Of course, oh ancient and mouldy one. My name is Berial of the Shimmering Waters Clan._The Spirit Cat introduced himself.

Dionan groaned. Of all the Spirit Cat partners that could have accompanied him; it had to be this one. This particular Cat had a penchant for annoying young ladies of a certain age; also for doing something else. Dionan knew he would have to put a stop to that before both of them commenced their journey.

'Berial, just one request before we set out; please don't engage in your rather unusual pastime!' Dionan said; his voice serious. 'If you do, just know that I won't bail you out.'

_We'd better depart. We've dallied long enough._Berial turned; preparing to leave. _Unlike you Dionan, I can't fly. I have to use other methods to get down from here. I'll see you at the bottom of the mountain._

Dionan watched as his feline companion swiftly ran back into the depths of the deserted city. Berial was heading for the warp platforms. Using one of these devices would enable the Spirit Cat to traverse the mountain rather quickly.

_He's right. Nothing will be accomplished by just standing here. _That thought was pushed aside as Dionan also prepared to leave. Glistering motes of azure and silver gyrated around him as he called upon his innate Seraphic Magic. Azure wings, edged in silver erupted from his back. Azure and silver feathers gently fell to the marble flagstones as his wings materialized. With powerful, steady beats of his wings, Dionan steadily flew into the sky. His dark gaze swept across the distant horizon and the world that rapidly revealed itself to him as he traversed the azure sky. But through his tenuous connection with the Life Stream, Dionan could detect that this world was suffering from severe mana depletion.

_Damn it! I will not be able to fly as much as I wanted to. Once I am clear of Sapphire Dawn Aerie, I will have to walk. _Dionan knew that he would have to descend once he was clear of the mountains. He could see the fleeting shape of Berial, his Spirit Cat companion in this endeavour move swiftly through the sequence of teleportation pads that had been placed at various locations upon the mountainside. Soon he was clear of the mountains. As he descended; Dionan saw Berial waiting for him at the base of the mountain. With a grunt, Dionan impacted roughly upon the ground, the weight of the rucksack he wore, making his landing slightly painful and ungraceful.

Berial snickered at his companion, swiftly falling into silence as Dionan glared at him.

**Do you have the Orb of Elyr Dionan? **Berial said all trace of mirth expunged from his mind voice.

His long tail twitched restlessly; a sign of his wanting to begin the mission that had caused both of them to be here within this world. Dionan arched one eyebrow, as he slung his bulging bag from his back. Kneeling upon the dewy grass, Dionan rummaged through the various compartments until he had found the object he had sought.

It was a spherical _luina_, confined within a delicate lattice of gleaming metal. Dionan cupped the _luina_ within both of his hands; raising it until the sun's rays brushed across its faceted curves. Light erupted within the core, spearing outwards. Dionan whispered a brief phrase as the inherent magic within the _luina_ ignited. After a few moments, an ankh symbol materialized, then dispersing.

'Of all the _Shyria_ to be born upon Sylvarant; I did not expect it to be that one.' Dionan muttered as he shoved the artefact back into the bag. 'Berial we have to hurry. If Cruxis learn of its existence; it could mean the end of all the plans the Council have made.'

_I agree Dionan. But why would the sleeping soul appear at this time?_Berial rose gracefully. _Unbonded Spirit Cats don't normally do this Dionan. It would be more expedient for you to get on my back. I can tell how thin the mana is here. You won't be able to fly for long periods of time. It will be quicker this way._

'I never thought I'd say this furbag.' Dionan said smoothly. 'But I have to agree with you; just this once.'

_Dionan if you ever call me that again, I'll nip you in a certain place so that it hurts every time you sit down for a month_**! **Berial sounded quite exasperated.

Dionan grinned. Perhaps this trip wouldn't be so bad after all. After the passage of multitudes of centuries, one of the Skyfolk now walked the world of Sylvarant. Whether his presence would portend a new beginning or the initiation of chaos, only time would reveal that.


	10. The Crystalim Temple

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: Act 6.**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the property of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Author's Note: this fanfiction has now become my WriYe project for 2013! Expect regular updates throughout the year! screwed up all that lovely formatting I put in for telepathic speech. So from now on, any telepathic communication will be in bold italic.**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. The mana flow in the world of Sylvarant is in decline. Food shortages and droughts are widespread. Life is very difficult. Unless Sylvarant goes through regeneration, all life will perish. Just as Cruxis send the Oracle to the next heiress of the Mana Lineage, echoes of a long forgotten power echo throughout Sylvarant. **_

_**During the Journey of World Regeneration, a secret from the barely recalled past of both Lloyd and Kara comes to light, as the Chosen of Mana finds her pilgrimage intertwined with the re-emergence of a race long thought to be dead. The return of these enigmatic beings also brings unexpected revelations for Lloyd and his twin Kara; a matter concerning their deceased mother Anna.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**The Crystalim Temple**_

~:O:~

_**Dionan, why do you have two swords strapped to you? The silver one seems too small for you to use, yet you bear it. Can I ask why?**_Berial sounded rather curious. His question was directed at the Auroran Mercenary currently astride his furry back.

Dionan smiled as he pondered Berial's request. 'This sword belonged to Sharra, my twin. She wanted the next _Shyria _of the sleeping soul to have this as a gift. It is by her request that I carry her dwarven-forged blade.'

The two unlikely companions journeyed on in silence, the world swiftly passing by as Berial slipped into his swift stride gait. Dionan had heard of this particular gift possessed by the great Spirit Cats. He was now experiencing it for himself. A stray beam of sunlight arced along the outermost edge of the slender metallic collar Berial bore about his throat. Ever since the Mage Guardian had ventured from Sapphire Dawn Aerie for the first time, after celebrating his Minor Ascension at the age of ninety, more than 4,000 years ago, a lingering curiosity about the various collars he had often viewed worn by the great Cats had been with him and was still with him. As a follower of the ways of Minerva, Summon Spirit of Knowledge, Dionan felt he had a duty to find out.

Every time he had tried to ask a Cat, because of his age back then, he wasn't taken seriously. Now that he had a Spirit Cat partner, Dionan could at last indulge his curiosity.

'Hey Furball, can I ask you something?' Dionan asked irreverently.

Berial growled; the sound rumbling deep within his chest. _**The next time you call me that, you'll be singing soprano!**_

Perched atop Berial's furry back Dionan grinned. The journey to find the _Shyria_ of the sleeping soul was now a lot more interesting. Until he found a trace of what he was searching for, annoying the heck out of his furry companion could prove to be quite entertaining. Dionan's people were the guardians of the great Cats, but not much was known about their feline companions.

_**The collars are an indication of rank amongst my race. Just like Elyrians, we are born with the ability to use magic. The strength of power and range of spells each individual Cat is able to cast varies.**_Berial increased his speed as a large, moss strewn boulder came into view. With a mighty heave of his powerful back legs the great Cat leapt over the weathered rock, his furred belly just missing the top of the boulder.

Dionan grunted as he was thrust forward, his fingers tightly gripping Berial's short, sleek white and blue fur. 'Sorry about that Furball. I'm not used to riding Spirit Cats.'

_**The fault was mine **__**Guardia de Shyria **__**Dionan Skyblade.**_Berial replied his mind voice coloured with mild exasperation. _**Despite being a walking rug, I too have to get used to having a rider. For someone as slim as you, you're quite heavy!**_

Dionan lessened his tight grip. 'Are you finding this difficult Berial? I can get off and walk.'

_**There is no need, well at least for a while. The mana levels prevalent in this world are so damnably thin! I won't be able to maintain this speed for long. What**_** happened **_**here?**_The great Cat slowed his pace. _**Dionan, you are going to have to walk. I didn't think life could survive with such low mana. But I was wrong. Even the Shadowed Void holds more mana within it.**_

Dionan slipped off the Spirit Cat's back. Settling the heavy pack and swords into a more comfortable position against his body, the Elyrian Warrior sighed. 'Cruxis is what happened to this declining world. Cruxis and the betrayal of two Nameless Ones I used to call friends. My people were forced to flee or face the threat of extinction. As a result of this, the two worlds may die. It is only a matter of time. My people never had a chance to fulfil their purpose.'

Berial came to a halt, light blazing within the depths of his liquid eyes, causing them to flame like the shine of candlelight. The sky was noticeably darker. Scarlet radiance, flowing from the setting sun, stained the clouds as twilight encroached upon the remains of day. A chilling breeze plucked tendrils of Dionan's black hair, blowing them across his eyes. Snagging the loose strands of hair away from his face, Dionan scanned the horizon, seeking something.

_**There is no viable shelter that I can see Dionan.**_Berial said, the wind causing his fur to ripple. _**There is a storm on the way.**_

'There is a place we can stay. It's not far.'

Dionan reached underneath his tunic, pulling out a crystal orb. Snapping the lock open, Dionan removed the pendant from its chain. Letting the chain drop to the earth, Dionan raised the gem, threading a tiny amount of mana through the centre. Nearby, stood a grove of trees, thickly clustered together, the air shimmered and wavered. Dionan spoke, one word uttered softly.

Noise akin to that of glass breaking, echoed briefly and then was swept away by the winds. The trees vanished, only to be replaced by ruins. Dilapidated buildings, their interiors open to the skies, stood empty, devoid of people. There were no signs of life, none at all. Scorch marks, evidence of some great disturbance were everywhere. Bones littered the silent avenues.

_**By the Great Tree Dionan, what is this place?**_

Dionan lowered the glistering crystal, secreting it in a pocket.

'The town of Avendale; the only ground dwelling my people ever attempted, before it was destroyed by Cruxis. We'd better go. It's not safe after dark, especially for solitary travellers, even more so for you.'

_**Don't concern yourself about my safety.**_Amusement glinted within Berial's eyes. _**I have ways of making myself less conspicuous.**_

A forlorn howling wind swept through the ancient, vacated streets stirring up eddies of dust. The rays of the setting sun coloured everything within a mantle of scarlet reflected in panes of broken glass, scatterings of jewels left there since the people left this place so many centuries before. Dionan tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from its short pony tail behind one ear, his eyes regarding the scene which lay before him. Utter ruination met his emerald gaze, preserved in time by a spell cast shortly after the disaster which caused the devastation in this forgotten place.

Ordinary items lay upon the ground, untouched since being discarded so long ago. Shoes, fragments of furniture littered the streets. Sad, empty eyes of a child's doll gazed vacantly at the stormy skies, its owner long since passed on. Scorched fragments of marble crunched underfoot as Dionan walked through the empty streets. Most of the buildings were destroyed, empty shells of what they once were. Only a few were intact; the bases of the walls remained, one of the few indications that anything had been here at all. The slow patient touch of time had removed any trace of the people who lived here. Dionan swept his eyes across the extensive mess of rubble, glass and twisted wood strewn across the wide, silent passages.

Watching where he was placing his feet, Dionan slowly picked his way through the jumble until he reached an open space. Behind him, Berial was less careful as he leapt over the rubble, his large paws scattering rock and wood in all directions. Berial's front paws impacted against a large fragment of marble, sending the Spirit Cat tumbling across the mass of scarred rock. As the pitted slab of stone thrust upwards a tiny spherical object was knocked loose, flying through the air.

Light danced through the core, leaving behind a barely visible trace of brilliance. Ignoring the muttered complaints of his feline companion Dionan caught the tiny sphere, his eyes widening in surprise.

'I can't believe my Spirit Sphere has been here all this time,' Dionan slipped the orb into an empty belt pouch. 'Now there should be a temple around here somewhere...'

A slight wind stirred up traces of ancient dust, causing flecks of dust and grime to flow across the square. Dionan coughed, accidentally inhaling dust motes. Fumbling at his belt for a flask of water to clear his throat he momentarily glanced downwards. Enough of the earth had been swept away by the touch of the wind, revealing a slab of rock untouched by the devastation apparent on the other buildings within the dead, silent town. The insignia of the Infinite Circle, the same one resting at the base of Dionan's throat glistened under the stormy skies. Dionan knelt clipping the water flask back onto his belt, gazing intently at the symbol carved into the slab of stone.

'There it is...the entrance to the temple...'

Dionan swiftly brushed away the remnants of ancient debris, fully uncovering the stone slab. 'Now where has that blasted cat gone off to?

Pulling off his right glove, Dionan placed his hand palm down upon the device of the Infinite Cycle, silvering radiance glowing from within his very skin. Thunder rumbled overhead, signalling the imminent arrival of the storm. Dionan stood waiting. After a few moments the sound of mechanisms whirring deep under the earth were faintly heard. Gratingly the rock slab moved backwards, showing stairs, the steps worn smooth in the middle from generations of people placing their feet upon them. Here cobwebs lay thick, covering the entrance,indicating this set of stairs hadn't been used for some time, perhaps not for centuries.

'Not more dust... guess I'll have to do something about that...'

Shining green runes danced within the winds, forming a circle around the body of the Guardian. One final sign materialized within the centre of the circle. Dionan placed his right hand, palm directly upon the centremost symbol.

'_Cyclone!'_

Releasing the spell, wind howled within the square. Dionan manipulated the summoned spell, sending the wind down the subterranean passage, blasting the grime of untold years away. Slipping his glove back on Dionan smiled. Thunder boomed overhead again, this time accompanied by a flash of lightning close by.

'I can't wait for that blasted Cat any longer,' Dionan sighed. 'Berial come on! You don't want to be stuck outside in this storm.'

The dark grey swollen clouds relinquished their heavy burden of water. Rain fell in luminous sheets, bathing the town in a river of dampness. Dionan ran down the steps, not wanting to be caught in the fierce torrent of rain. Behind him feline yowls sounded, as his Spirit Cat partner bounded after him down the descending stars, looking somewhat akin to a drowned rat. Dionan stifled a laugh at the sight, closing the entrance to the passage. He was plunged into darkness momentarily before light flickered guiding his way once more.

Directly ahead of him, Berial stood, water dripping from his fur coat, forming into puddles looking quite sorry for himself.

_**I don't suppose you a have a towel on you Dionan?**_Berial asked sheepishly.

Leaning back against the wall Dionan removed his backpack, dropping it onto the floor.

'I don't sorry.' Well he did have a few, but he didn't want fur all over them.

Berial didn't reply. Instead he started to shake his body, sending water everywhere.

Dionan raised one hand, a miniature ball of lightning resting above his fingers. His smile was somewhat malicious in nature.

'I suggest you stop that furball.'

_**Stop what Dionan...**_Berial raised his head, his eyes widening as he saw precisely what Dionan was holding. _**OH CRAP!**_

The Spirit Cat turned and fled, Dionan chasing after him with malice intended. 'I did warn you!'

The mercenary chased the sopping wet Cat down the passage, shooting balls of lightning after Berial.

~:O:~

Even within the underground tunnel Dionan and Berial could still hear the storm rumbling directly overhead; the layers of surface dirt and rock only muffled the noise. Dionan leaned against one wall, casually observing his feline companion. The great Cat lay resting against the other wall, his head upon his front paws. His once pristine coat was dirtied, black streaks overlaying the cobalt stripes. Berial glared back at the Mage Guardian, scorch marks marring his blue streaked coat. His long tail twitched restlessly, a sign of the great Cat's inner agitation.

Dionan smirked, glancing quickly over at his travelling companion.

'I told you not to do that furball. I could have dried you off with a fire spell. All you had to do was ask.'

Berial decided not to dignify that with a response.

'Fine, go ahead and sulk Berial.' Dionan knelt hooking fingers around the straps of his bulky backpack, stirring up dust when he dragged the bag over. Rummaging through the various compartments, Dionan removed all manner of objects eventually pulling a slender crystal from deep within the bag. 'There is supposed to be a temple down here. That blasted storm has us trapped for a while. I might as well find it.'

Retrieving his sword belt and scabbard, he sheathed his weapon, fastening the belt securely around his waist. His Mage Guardian senses hadn't picked up any sign of a threat hiding within the velvet darkness of the tunnel. Bringing his sword along was a precaution only. Channelling mana through the core of the crystal, Dionan quietly muttered one word.

The stone ignited with a burst of pearly yellow radiance. Light flared, rapidly pushing back any last vestige of shadow from the underground tunnel. Columns, their jewel adorned bases magnifying the light, extended beyond the range of his crystal born light. Something appeared to be carved into the walls. Dionan moved closer, running fingers over the carvings. His eyes widened, recognizing the script covering the walls.

There was a message left here but some parts of it were missing, appearing to have been gouged out of the very stone of the wall. Dionan sighed, mourning the loss of such destruction. He would have to explore further.

_I didn't expect this. Not down here. I thought all of their temples were destroyed during the Kharlan War! _Frowning Dionan ran down the tunnel, clenching the crystal tight within his fingers. His boots disturbed the bare earth, kicking up shards of rock, marble and other debris, worn down with the march of years. Dionan pushed more mana through the crystal, extending the range of the light spell.

Mosaics, their colours still bright as the day they were first painted onto these underground walls glistered dully under the spell light. Winged figures adorned the walls, the sign of Balance inset in pale moonstones. Great cats, their pale fur coats streaked with colours of cobalt, red, pale yellow along with a myriad of other colours were interspersed amongst the figures of winged people. Most of the cat images bore collars, some ornate, others mostly plain in design.

Dionan ran one hand along the wall, fingers lightly skimming the images. As his fingers brushed against the image of a Spirit Cat with charcoal fur, the sound of grinding shifted from deep within the ancient stone walls. Behind Dionan, one part of the wall slowly, gratingly shifted moving to one side. A hidden passageway extended into the velvety darkness. Drawing his blade, the swordsman manipulated the glowing light crystal sending it flying down into the tunnel. A small pillar stood a few feet away from the tunnel's opening. Crystals mounted in gleaming silver metal pulsed with energy.

One stone larger than the rest, shone faintly, rested atop the pillar, underneath a small, but wide hole. Carved into the large crystal was the symbol of an ankh. Script was carved into the marble.

'_Blood of the Blessed, Magic of the Blessed._

_Guardian of Honour, Shield of Honour._

_If the Vanguard has fallen, only the might of the secondary line,_

_Can summon the Vessel to the Room of Birth.'_

Dionan touched the crystal. Grasping the sword blade, he cut his palms, crimson blood welling up, spilling over the damaged and rent skin. Dionan winced, the silvery light of mana sparkling amidst the scarlet fluid. Coating his blade with his own life blood, Dionan thrust his sword into the stone pillar, until only the hilt and handle were visible. Tearing off strips of cloth from his tunic, Dionan bound his wounds.

_At least the line is still alive, somewhere in the wilds of Sylvarant._

Looking down at his ruined tunic, Dionan sighed. _At least I have a few spares. I'll need to locate the nearest Auroran Guild to get more._

Leaving his bloodstained sword embedded into the pillar, Dionan vacated the small tunnel, deciding to explore the underground complex further. This part of his task, at least for the moment was now accomplished.

~O~

Within the centre of the illusion swathed ruins of Avendale, myriad stele erupted into wakefulness. Rainbow luminescence sparked rapidly from one stele to the next, flowing along the lines of the ancient relics. The awakened force sped outwards through the mantle shielding the dilapidated town, activating the hidden ancient magic left lying dormant within the steles.

Light sparkled, flashing through the stele, heading in the direction of Asguard, City of Winds.

~O~

After a few moments crystal light fell onto a doorway, illuminating a large cavern beyond the opening. Calling upon his own personal store of mana, Dionan entangled the crystal within the web of a levitation spell. Sending a mental command, he released the crystal. The crystal shifted through the air, stilling when it reached the centre of the immense room. Pillars encircled the entirety of the chamber, bearing signs some recognizable, while others were unfamiliar to the Mage Guardian. Underneath the floating crystal was a marble plinth, a pedestal standing atop it. An indentation of a hand carved deeply into the surface of the base lay atop the pedestal, the sign of Balance within the centre of the stone palm.

_That's a message stone. What is this doing here? Oh well, only one way to find out. _Dionan raised one hand, silvering light flickering within his exposed palm. The light pushed past the barrier of his skin until his hand was completely aglow. He placed his shining hand downwards onto the carved imprint. At the slightest touch, the mass of pillars chimed. Motes of brilliance erupted from the pillars, converging directly in front of the message stone.

Within the mass of dancing light a faint silhouette could be glimpsed. A figure of a winged woman could be seen, light flowing outwards. Other motes of light of varying hues spiralled, shifting through the chamber in complex patterns, leaving faint tracings of magic behind.

The hairs on the back of Dionan's neck began to rise. _Something ancient is lingering here. I have only felt this presence twice before._

Within his thoughts Dionan felt a fleeting touch, accompanied by a multitude of voices all murmuring. Rubble went crashing along the marble floor of the chamber. Risking a glance over his shoulder, Dionan saw Berial bow his head in a gesture of respect.

One voice louder than the rest spoke to the Mage Guardian.

_**Welcome Child of the Great Tree. We, the Crystalim have waited for your arrival, hidden within this temple for thousands of years. **_

Swiftly removing his hand from the top of the message stone, Dionan knelt. Only twice before had the Crystalim appeared during his journeying. These enigmatic beings appeared only rarely. For them to appear now meant something serious was occurring.

'What can I do for you Bright Ones?' Dionan stood, head bowed.

_**We have a message for you. The sleeping soul you are looking for is here in Sylvarant. But there is also a warning. There is another with that soul, bound to it, hiding the potential of the soul. Bonds meant to protect have gone awry. Only the presence of the other will ensure stability until the time of release. The Chosen will soon depart on her journey. Those behind the false religion of Martel will hunt the sleeping soul should they learn of its existence. Guard the sleeping soul for its presence will stop the sacrifice of the Chosen Lineage and unite the two worlds. **_

_**Join the Chosen for a time if you can. Find the host of the sleeping soul and protect it at all costs. Everything will fail if the sleeping soul falls into silence.**_

_**Be wary of the Nameless Ones. They know your people aren't extinct as you have led the world to believe.**_

The light faded. The Crystalim had departed.

Dionan slumped against the stone pillar, his injured palms throbbing painfully. This part of his journey he had not been looking forward to.

One last voice whispered within the depths of Dionan's thoughts. _**Seek the Chosen at the Desert Town Triet. The first Seal is there. **_

Weariness flooded his body. He had called upon his personal mana reserves far too much whilst being trapped in this Temple. A clang rang out near him. Berial dropped a blade, piited with rust. Dionan grimaced when he saw this.'

Dionan sighed, his frustration evident. His weapon was now fused with the ancient marble of the Crystalim Altar. The blade Berial appropriated from somewhere in the ages old, dusty Temple was all but useless to the Mage Guardian. Rust pitted the entire length of the sword. The crazed length of metal was loose in its housing within the wrecked hilt. The pommel stone was missing. Cracks and chips marred the once sharp edges. The steel was now not even fit enough to cut through butter.

'Thanks for the thought Berial, but this is useless.' The Auroran Mercenary cursed. 'I'll need a replacement blade soon, Berial. Most of the spells I use will give away the fact I'm not human. I'll have to employ the common tier 2 spells.'

Dionan rubbed his temples, the faint throb a sign a headache would soon develop. Settling his lean frame against the pillar, he decided to get some rest, whilst waiting for the raging storm above to disperse.

A sense of lassitude began to creep over the mercenary. As his eyes began to close, sparks of golden light roused him. Berial emerged from the dark passage, a long blade floating behind him. _**Dionan wake up. I found this in a side passage.**_

Yawning and stretching, he rose walking over to where the great Cat stood. His eyes widening with delight Dionan knelt, his fingers gripping the hilt.

'Where did you find this?' Dionan recognized the weapon. 'This is a Weaver's Blade, well one of them. Are there more?'

Dionan ran fingers over the jewel surmounted within the pommel as the stone. Running his fingers over the rune inset within the crystal, he held a Water Blade.

_**Yes there are. Each one has an elemental insignia on the pommel stones.**_

Running back down the corridor, Berial stopped, gazing back at the Mage Guardian. Placing the Water Blade within the sheath his previous weapon occupied, Dionan followed his feline companion. Berial left paw prints within the thick dust. Flinging a light globe into the side passage the great Cat indicated, Dionan indeed glimpsed nine other blades. He recognized the name mark embossed within the steel. It was very familiar – these blades had belonged to his father, Telmaris.

Feeling his throat constrict, Dionan felt a tear flow down his face. 'Thank you Berial. These blades are a treasure beyond price. I'll be able to find a way to carry these with me.'

_**Author's Note: I'll reveal what a Weaver and the Blades mean later on in the fiction. Can you my readers review and let me know how you think I am doing with this fiction.**_


	11. Letters on the Table Part 1

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, alternate universe, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: Act 7.**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the properties of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Author's Note: this fanfiction has now become my WriYe project for 2013! Expect regular updates throughout the year! screwed up all that lovely formatting I put in for telepathic speech. So from now on, any telepathic communication will be in bold italic.**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. During the Journey of World Regeneration, a secret from the barely recalled past of both Lloyd and Kara comes to light, as the Chosen of Mana finds her pilgrimage intertwined with the re-emergence of a race long thought to be dead. The return of these enigmatic beings also brings unexpected revelations for Lloyd and his twin Kara; a matter concerning their deceased mother Anna.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 7: Letters on the Table Part 1**_

~(:O:)~

Two envelopes rested upon the polished oak table, two names written on each one in flowing script. Large, hairy fingers lightly brushed across the envelope bearing the name _**'Lloyd Irving'**_, a sigh ringing out in the room. The other bore the name _**'Kara Irving.' **_The names of his adopted human children glistened wetly, the newly imprinted ink drying under the heat of the early morning sun, a carelessly discarded glass writing implement and uncapped bottle of ink pushed to one side.

A messy sheaf of papers lay in the centre of the desk, a few pages scattered over the surface of the table. Another small packet, this one bearing a third name could be seen. Large hands reached for it, tearing the paper and withdrawing the folded contents. The envelope was tossed into the nearby stove and a faint rustle could be heard.

_**Dirk Irving,**_

_**It has been fourteen years since you have taken custody of Lloyd and Kara. Raised them well and given them your name. For this you have my respect and sincere gratitude. But upon the arrival of their seventeenth year of life, they must pass from your guardianship, into that of mine. The powers of their heritage will soon awaken from dormancy. If the process has begun, the luina wards erected within the place you call home will contain the mana signature their awakening talents will release.**_

_**Until I or an Auroran Mercenary arrives at Iselia Woods to escort Lloyd and Kara to the nearest safe haven, additional precautions must be undertaken to ensure their safety and continued wellbeing. Reports of Desians roaming the environs of the forest you built your home in circulate in every town and House of Salvation I have travelled to so far. I have seen evidence of the destruction these foul beings of elven and human blood have wrought upon the terrified populace. For your own protection and that of the two children dwelling with you, a medium sized chest has been sent. The items contained inside will assist in the task of shielding Lloyd, Kara and you from the notice of unfriendly eyes.**_

_**Weapons of Auroran craft and design will accompany the delivery of the spell-warded strongbox. Should the entirety of the defences erected in place fail, these weapons are a last resort only. With the Blood-Gifts bestowed upon you by myself the weapons should not be required, yet will be provided. The presence of the Desians grows stronger with each passing day. Every waking moment I hear prayers and wishes that the pilgrimage of the Chosen of Mana begin.**_

_**A contact I have in Iselia often sends missives concerning the current heiress of the Mana Lineage. From what the clergy of Martel say, her journey may commence soon. I plan to arrive before this happens. The travels of the last Chosen of Mana did not succeed. Desians killed her during the early stages of her voyage. I wish for Lloyd and Kara to be away from Iselia Village in case the Desians attack the Temple of Martel.**_

_**May the blessings of the Eternal Circle be with you.**_

_**Varian Vel Delvarn.**_

The letter dropped to the tabletop. Light coming into the room through an open window fell upon an ornately carved chest, the jewels inset upon the wood glowing luminously under the rays of brilliant sunlight. A metallic key lay atop the sealed chest.

_**Author's Note: since I am working on my first novel right now, I'll be posting chapters in segments of 800 or 1000 words, one chapter split into several parts. So there will be five updates a week! Hope you don't mind. Once a first draft of my novel Phoenix Soul is written, the chapters will be longer.**_


	12. Letters on the Table Part 2

**_Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix._**

**_Rating: T to be safe may go higher in later uploads._**

**_Genre: Games, fantasy, alternate universe, fan continuation._**

**_Chapter: Act 7.2_**

**_Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the properties of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!_**

**_Author's Note: this fanfiction has now become my WriYe project for 2013! Expect regular updates throughout the year! screwed up all that lovely formatting I put in for telepathic speech. So from now on, any telepathic communication will be in bold italic._**

**_Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. During the Journey of World Regeneration, a secret from the barely recalled past of both Lloyd and Kara comes to light, as the Chosen of Mana finds her pilgrimage intertwined with the re-emergence of a race long thought to be dead. The return of these enigmatic beings also brings unexpected revelations for Lloyd and his twin Kara; a matter concerning their deceased mother Anna._**

**_Second Restoration_**

**_Act 7: Letters on the Table Part 2_**

~(:O:)~

The letter dropped to the tabletop. Light coming into the room through an open window fell upon an ornately carved chest, the jewels inset upon the wood glowing luminously under the rays of brilliant sunlight. A metallic key lay atop the sealed chest.

He knew what it meant, what it signified. The arrival of the spell-warded container meant the inevitable separation he knew had been coming since he became the appointed guardian of Lloyd and Kara fourteen years ago. Both of his adopted children, now entering their seventeenth year of life, would soon discover their existence altering. A hidden part of their secretive past would soon come to light, suppressed throughout their childhood by those who, apart from him, had watched over the two of them.

He knew this day would eventually come and it had; faster than he had ever expected or wanted. Within the span of a week, perhaps during the following days, he would bid farewell to the human siblings he loved with all of his heart, mind and soul. Just as Colette, the blood-heiress of the Mana Lineage would soon depart on her Journey of Salvation, Lloyd and Kara would leave on one of their own. To discover what, he couldn't think of it. Nothing had been imparted to him, only a few rules he impressed upon Lloyd and Kara, to help them avoid being noticed by those who chose to follow the path of darkness.

Those strictures passed through his mind.

**_Always keep your birthmarks hidden from the sight of others._**

**_Never draw attention to yourself._**

**_Always wear your gloves when in the company of others._**

A muffled sigh rang out. His gaze flickered over the two sealed envelopes bearing the names of his son and daughter. He knew what the letters inside contained. At the request of their deceased mother he wrote them, and shut the letters away. He had been told he would know the proper time to unearth those letters and give them to the intended recipients. When he received the missive from Varian Vel Delvarn, he knew that instance had finally arrived.

The lives of his son and daughter would alter forever once they read the words he had personally written, during the early days of his guardianship. Somehow knowing his time of acting as a guardian would soon draw to a close, he retrieved the letters from the hiding place only he knew of. He often rose early, hours before Lloyd and Kara. However sleep had been elusive. Finding he could no longer fall into a state of slumber, a consequence of the deep uncertainties plaguing him whether waking or dreaming, he came to the decision to write his own words, to add them to the letters he penned so long ago. So during the quiet stillness that accompanied the earliest hours of the morning he set his thoughts to paper, noting down what he knew he could never say.

Since that day he hid all knowledge of the letters or the mysterious visitors who often came to his forest abode during the hours Lloyd and Kara were at the school overseen by an Elvish teacher within the boundaries of Iselia, Village of Oracles. During one such meeting a few days ago, the chest and a few other parcels were brought. On the odd occasion Lloyd and Kara asked what those were, Dirk would always reply he crafted them for a customer dwelling in another town or village.

Two of the largest packages lay unwrapped on the table, near the bundle of papers. Weapons, gleaming under the rays of the sun lay nestled amongst a tangle of paper, writing instruments and inkpots. Being a smith, his skills honed during his childhood and apprenticeship to the Master Smith of his Clan he knew someone possessed of exceptional talents made the instruments. He instantly recognized the primary material these weapons were constructed from: silverwood. A rare wood, reputed to be as strong as steel. He had seen this particular type of wood only a few times. His Clan guarded a small grove of silverwood trees. Due to the scarcity of this most unusual type of wood, only the dwarves knew how to safely manipulate it. Dirk knew the hands of a fellow dwarf had been involved during one stage of the crafting process.

A bow, made of rare silverwood, inlaid with ivory and crystals of varying colours lay within the centre of the rough wooden table. A coiled bowstring, sitting atop a small packet of waxed fabric rested next to a tooled quiver, filled to capacity with arrows also formed of silverwood. Due to his dwarvish heritage, Dirk knew this particular bow had been produced by a master craftsman. The person it was intended for would surely appreciate such a weapon. A long wooden tube, covered with ebony leather had also been provided, the purpose clear.

Twin swords, the crystalline blades shining with an inherent glow lay on the far side of the table. The handles were constructed of silverwood, inlaid with elaborate carvings and myriad gemstones. The pommel stones inset within the swords were translucent and spherical in shape. Two scabbards, and a belt comprised of dark leather lay nearby.

The longbow was meant for Kara, the twin blades for Lloyd.


	13. Changes Part 1

_**Author: Sparkling Moon Phoenix.**_

_**Rating: T to be safe may go higher in later uploads.**_

_**Genre: Games, fantasy, major alternate universe, fan continuation.**_

_**Chapter: Act 8.**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Tales of Symphonia or the wonderful characters. Any original characters, races, the Mercenary and Archaeologist Guild are my creations. Astalia Delvarn and the Spirit Cat Deia are the properties of Alaia Skyhawk so please don't steal!**_

_**Summary: set in the first Tales of Symphonia game. During the Journey of World Regeneration, a secret from the barely recalled past of both Lloyd and Kara comes to light, as the Chosen of Mana finds her pilgrimage intertwined with the re-emergence of a race long thought to be dead. The return of these enigmatic beings also brings unexpected revelations for Lloyd and his twin Kara; a matter concerning their deceased mother Anna.**_

_**Second Restoration**_

_**Act 8: Beginnings of Change Part 1**_

~(:O:)~

Iselia, otherwise known as the Village of Oracles; also home to the current heiress of the Mana Lineage, Collette Brunel. Located near the Forest of Iselia, this otherwise unremarkable village was known throughout the world of Sylvarant as the cradle from which those of the Mana Lineage began their travels as dictated by the angels of Cruxis. The Temple of Martel and the holy place where the Chosen received tutelage in the tenets of the Goddess Martel and in her sacred duties as the envoy of the Goddess lay a little way north of the village. This small temple was the most important part of the Iselian area due to the Oracles sent down to guide those of the Mana Lineage. The region was generally peaceful; the only source of real trouble came from the Desians roaming the countryside, waylaying human travellers.

Only the Auroran Mercenaries were able to walk the isolated roads and tracks without fear; those of elven blood who refused to join the ranks of the Desians. Not much was known of these enigmatic Mercenaries, except they provided help to those who required it. Recently people dwelling in towns and isolated villages purchased their services as couriers and bodyguards.

No clouds marred the perfection of the warm summer day. A gentle breeze blew through the quiet village, carrying with scents from the wildflowers blooming upon the hillsides outside the boundaries. However the serenity of the morning was about to be shattered, by an event the villagers had grown accustomed to glimpsing on a daily basis.

'Lloyd! Come on, get your butt in gear or we'll be late! Again!' A feminine voice rang out, brimming with barely suppressed frustration.

A slender, copper haired young woman, arrows rattling in their quiver came to an abrupt halt, almost falling over her own feet. She dropped her leather satchel on the dusty road, bulging with the books required for her lessons and unclipped her water bottle from her belt. She sighed, taking a long pull of the cool water inside. Wiping sweat from her forehead, she almost didn't notice another teenager, garbed in red, white ribbons trailing merrily behind him as he raced past her, speeding down the main path towards the schoolhouse. The villagers merely shifted out of the way. Seeing these two children race through the streets of the village was a daily happening. Bets were often taken as to which of the two would be late for their lessons.

'Lloyd! Damnit, wait for me will you!'

Another exasperated yell split the air as the young girl saw her brother enter the schoolhouse before her. Then, the one sound she dreaded hearing above all others began to echo; the peal of the school bell.

'Aww hell! For the first time in months I'm late!'

Putting her water bottle back onto the appropriate belt clip, she picked up the heavy bag and raced after her brother. Two village guards emerged from a nearby sentry post and chuckled as they caught a brief glimpse of the young girl running flat out, in the general direction of the schoolhouse.

~(:O:)~

'That's fifty gald you owe me. Seems Kara is late this morning.'

'Why don't you just bugger off?' The loser of the bet swore as he paid up.

The winner now fifty gald richer whistled a merry tune as he settled into position at the small guard post near the southern entrance of the village. A slight chuckle erupted from the guard as he noticed the dust kicked up by the young woman frantically running in the general direction of the village school. The Goddess Martel had surely blessed him with good fortune.

~(:O:)~

She raced across the street, through the doorway of the schoolhouse, failing to see the pail of dirty water that had just been used to clean the blackboard.

'Damnit!'

CRUNCH!

Large fragments of wood littered the passageway as the young girl went through the wall, helped in part by her feet knocking over the bucket. A few students winced when they heard the wooden panelling break. Snickering could be heard from the main room as her fellow students emerged into the entrance, taking note of the uneven hole in the wall. The school teacher, an elegant and graceful elven woman pulled the teenager out of the gaping crack, picked the worst of the splinters out of her hair and helped her inside.

~(:O:)~

Outside, hidden amongst the flowers in the window box a most unusual creature observed the events happening inside the building. A small kitten, blue stripes running through his white coat, a plain grey metallic collar adorning his furry throat sat, sapphire eyes glowing with amusement. His short, stubby tail twitched restlessly.

'Why are females of this particular Bloodline so intent on bashing their skulls in? Sharra didn't seem to have taken any harm from the bumps and scrapes.'

The kitten jumped down from his floral perch. Violet light shimmered over his miniscule form and he disappeared from sight. The only indication he had ever been there at all were tiny paw prints disappearing under the touch of the wind.

~(:O:)~

Inside the classroom, the teacher cast a healing spell over the disoriented young woman, and then assisted her to an empty seat. Glancing at the girl as she walked to the front of the classroom, the teacher sighed, her eyes flicking over to _another_ tear, this one inexpertly repaired with a few rough boards and rusty nails.

'Kara you really need to watch where you are going. We don't need another hole in the wall. As if this day couldn't get any worse. First Lloyd is on time for once and then you break school property. Perhaps I ought to start holding lessons outside.'

'Yes Professor Sage.'

The teenager groaned resting her throbbing head on the cool wooden desk, the barely suppressed laughter and sarcastic comments flowing between her fellow students reaching her ears. _Perhaps I should just dig a hole and hide in it. _

Brushing off the sawdust, straightening her orange and white clothing the teacher picked up a white stick of chalk and began to write on the newly cleaned blackboard:

_**The Forgotten Race and the Prophecy of the Shyria.**_

The young professor turned back to face the class. The subject she was about to lecture her students on was considered by some to be heretical. She dedicated her life to the pursuit of knowledge and the joy of sharing what she learned with others. To her, even myths and legends were important. With the words of the ancient prophecy resounding in her mind she couldn't shake the unspoken certainty that there was more than a hint of truth within it. She decided she would share what she knew of it with her students. She held doubts that any of the children would know what she was talking about; except one, her younger brother Genis. With the assistance of fellow scholars within the White Council, she managed to unearth a few texts concerning the prophecy that hadn't been destroyed by the priesthood of Martel. She decided to try asking. Maybe one of her students would surprise her.

'Does anyone know of the Prophecy of the _Shyria_?'

Silence. Not one child raised their hand or voiced a response in answer to her question. One of the younger students sat amongst the first row of desks at the front of the class raised his small hand. Without even turning around, Professor Sage knew who would answer; her younger brother Genis.

The young teacher sighed inwardly. _Sometimes I wonder why I even accepted the position of village schoolteacher. _

Rubbing her temples in frustration she turned to face the class. Genis had indeed raised his hand. He sat there, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

'Genis please relate what you know to the rest of the class.'

The young elf stood, his gaze pinned to the board. 'The Prophecy of the _Shyria _is said to have been spoken by an Oracle of Cassandra, the Summon Spirit of Prophecy and the Vision Tides.'

'Well done Genis. You may sit.'

Walking to her desk, Raine picked up a book, idly turning the pages. 'The Summon Spirit Cassandra according to the legends of the Elyrians, is one of the lesser ranked Spirits, said to have been discovered thousands of years after the Spirits I have previously taught all of you about.'

Wishing she was anywhere but in the school, the voice of Genis Sage penetrated her growing headache. Those words seemed familiar to her somehow. Her gaze flickered over the text just written on the board of slate. _Cassandra. . . that name. . . I've heard it somewhere before. But where?_

Her vision wavered slightly as she regarded the script written on the blackboard. The pain increased, sparks of discoloured light penetrating her sight. Her thoughts became distant as a voice she barely recalled, one that she knew she heard before in the depths of slumber. Kara knew she possessed no memory of her early childhood. Perhaps the block preventing her from recalling her earliest days had finally begun to shatter.

_**Memory flash:**_

_Her mother's gentle voice intruded, calling her by a name only the two of them used when both of them were alone, spoken when her mother took her to bathe in private._

'_My little, bright Mirathyr. One day there will be many who will know you by that name. Once you are fully grown you will restore the Balance. My time has come and gone. Now it is up to you little one. Recite the prophecy for me.'_

_Eager to hear the melodic voice of her mother again, the girl child recited the words forever imprinted upon her memory._

The brief moment of clarity faded. Kara sat, the palm of her right hand pulsing, burning. Pulling back her right glove, her eyes widened as she glimpsed a faint light shining within the centre of her palm. She hastily pushed the glove back into place. _Perhaps I ought to mention it to the Professor._

Raine snapped the book shut. As usual disappointment welled up; she didn't let it show on her face. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered to tutor the village children at all. Not even the older children displayed any signs of wanting to learn beyond the basic education required of all children as set out by the Church of Martel. None of them were interested in learning past the school's curriculum approved by the Council of Village Elders. The older children were often taught from the age of sixteen in any craft their parents deemed suitable for them. Only her younger brother displayed any inclination for furthering his education.

Inwardly reflecting on the folly of children not wishing to study, she nearly missed the quiet response spoken by Kara.

'I do Professor.'

_Finally, someone apart from Genis. _Although the affirmation came from someone she didn't expect; Kara Irving, the quieter of the Irving twins. The girl never tried to bring attention to herself, even when undertaking the various classes required of all children who attended the village school.

'Kara, come and write the Prophecy for the rest of the class on the board.'

The young girl stood, weakness flooding through her entire body. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear her mind, she clutched her desk for support. Raine gazed at her student, noting the tight grip the girl had on her desk. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the slight trembling wracking the girl's slender frame. Her powers of healing surged uncalled for. Kara seemed to be rather pale and wan. She watched as Kara straightened.

Kara took the stick of chalk from Professor Sage. Dizziness swayed her hand. Pushing back the lethargy clouding her mind she began to write. A voice echoed within her thoughts as the words, long forgotten, yet strangely familiar to her flowed from her fingertips and onto the blackboard.

_'**A time of suffering will come, foreseen by the Balance Priests.**_

_**Two shattered Worlds; one will brim with the powers of Mana,**_

_**The other will not.**_

_**Only the saving of the Bloodline can halt the degradation.**_

_**Blood will call to Blood, Light to Light, **_

_**Magic to Magic, Soul to Soul.**_

_**Those with the Wings of Mana and Spirit will illuminate the Way to the Future,**_

_**Born with the powers of the Bloodline within them.**_

_**Summoned into the light of the Holy Tree by the First of my Children,**_

_**The life giving powers of the Holy Tree shall be eternal,**_

_**Casting its grace and blessing of Mana throughout the unified world.'**_

**'**_**Shyria du Mira, Shyria du Ilura,**_

_**Their combined radiance will birth a new World Tree, healing the fractured worlds.**_

_**The Hidden shall once again take their place, as the Immortal Guardians of the Tree.'**_

_The stick of white chalk dropped from limp fingers. The teenager made her way back to her assigned desk, once more propping her aching head on her folded arms. Raine stared at the verses Kara Irving had just written on the slate. Her eyes widened as she noticed the bottom half._

_How could she __know __that? It has taken me almost a year of research to unearth most of this obscure prophecy. Kara wrote it as if she knew it. How could she know that? One of her deceased parents perhaps tutored her? Is the barrier over her lost memories finally beginning to lift? __Raine frowned. She hated mysteries. Lloyd and Kara Irving were an enigma she had become determined to solve. _

_~(:O:)~_

_The muted, yet rapid clacking of a loom sounded, drowning out the discordant harmony of the waterfall flowing down from the mountains, falling into the deep valley so far below. A light wind, carrying with it the scents of crystal waters and flowers flowed into the spacious stone house, stirring myriad tapestries adorning the smooth white-washed walls. A second door, partially open, could be seen along the back wall of the cottage indicated there were other spaces not currently in use by the lone inhabitant of the isolated dwelling._

_The sound of the loom fell into silence, a chair scraped along the stone floor. A stooped figure, garbed in a hooded cloak of blue slowly rose from the sturdy chair, walking over to the open window. A face lined with age was reflected in the glass, bright emerald eyes shining with a fierce intellect. Despite the passage of years, traces of what had once been a luminous beauty were still visible. The elderly woman reached, fingers barely grasping the handle, when a golden light erupted from the recesses of the cottage, filling the entirety of the building. Hands flung back the hood of the mantle, revealing fully the face and form of the weaver. Delicately pointed ears were visible from underneath long silvering hair. The woman was an elf; one of the Elder Races given life by the Tree of Mana and blessed with the gift of magic._

_Vibrant green eyes widened as the she-elf noted the faint filaments of magic flowing through the room. __Ancient powers are stirring once more. What could have caused this? I must check the Altar Room._

_Summoning her Mage-Sight, she glimpsed thicker strands of mana constricting around objects within the chamber at the back of the lodge. Closing the window now driven from her thoughts, the Storyteller walked to the source of the ignited magic. She halted upon the threshold, gazing at the sight before her._

_Affixed to the back lay, gleaming under the mystical spell-born light was a tapestry. The violet cloth, woven from Mana Leaf Herb had threads of silver and gold running through it, the delicate artistry depicting the form of the Giant Tree of legend. Familiar symbols, denoting the various paths of elemental magic were apparent, stitched along the outer edges of the fabric. What caught the attention of the Storyteller lay within the centre._

_A marble statue of a young maiden, delicate crystalline wings extended gracefully stood in front of the wall hanging. Various hues of elemental power thrummed within the wings. A cobalt starflower carved from sapphire flickered faintly upon the forehead of the stone maiden. The arms of the statue were held closely against the torso, the fingers cupped. Hovering above the stone hands were two fist sized gems. The first, blue in colour, had a golden dragon coiling along its faceted shape. The second, deep violet in nature, also had something coiled around it; a golden phoenix. Both of them were aglow, casting their inner fire throughout the room._

The Elven Storyteller approached the two crystals. For thousands of years, after the fall of the Yggdrassil Tree, these two mystical stones had lain in a state of dormancy. No longer did they do so. The elderly she-elf reverently bowed, touching the surface of the violet crystal. The blaze receded, never fading entirely. The light pulsed, in mimicry of a beating heart. The Storyteller knew of only one event that could possibly trigger the spells woven onto the crystals. The sleeping soul had begun to erase the binding spells hiding the powers within it from the sight of the Nameless.

_Heirs to the Bloodline are alive. Soon they will come to me for the truth. About what they truly are and why they possess such abilities. My familial duties will finally be complete. The vow my ancestress Eldarian swore to Miraluina and Iluraegil will finally be kept. _The Storyteller sketched the sign of the Great Seed. _They will walk upon the Mirror Worlds again._

The aged Storyteller sketched the sign of the Great Seed. She knew it wouldn't be long before those destined to come to Latheon Gorge would arrive.


End file.
